


Cat and Mouse

by bonniepatsy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonniepatsy/pseuds/bonniepatsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles finds a cat in the road. He names it, loves it, nurses it back to health (all while hiding it from his dad) only to find it severally injured the next day. What happens next is only the beginning.  T for light gore and later chapters. Rating may change to M.<br/>EDIT: story on hold for now, don't expect chapter updates - sorry i love you don't hate me</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Martin

Stiles turned down the street to his house, the Chinese food in the passenger seat making his mouth water. His father wasn't going to be home for a while so he felt the need to wait until he got home, but boy did it smell amazing. The Jeep shuddered and rattled as old Jeeps do. He turned into the driveway, turned the car off, and gathered the box dinner up in his arms, sneaking an egg roll. He slammed the car door and started up his front pathway when a faint rustling made him stop. Turning cautiously and fighting the urge to sprint, screaming into his home, he tried to find the source of the noise. Rusting, closer this time – he jerked his head towards the disturbance.

“Scott?” he whispered, praying to see his friend morphing out of the darkness.

“Derek?” his voice broke, “Isaac?” he squeaked. Just as he was about to run pell mell up the pathway a large tabby cat stumbled out of the high grass across the street. He let out a sigh, almost falling over from relief. The cat looked as if it was trying to cross the street. It staggered drunkenly, unable to work it;s limbs properly. Headlights blared along the pavement. The cat, dazed, continued to stumble and limp diagonally across the road, seeming not to notice the on coming car. Stiles stopped, hypnotized by what was about to happen.

“Woah, hey!” shouted Stiles. “Hey!” But the car wasn't slowing. He dropped the food on the hood of his car and bolted into the street, warding the car around. The car wheels shrieked, jerking to the side just in time.

“Get out of the road!” roared the driver as he passed.

“Yeah, no problem.” he shouted. “You almost hit an animal, no big deal.” The car disappeared around a corner leaving Stiles and the cat alone in the street. He looked at the cat exasperated. “You could have gotten yourself killed.” The cat swayed on the spot, trying to focus on Stiles' face. It looked scared, it's back hunched, it's ears went down, and it's pupils dilated. It was actually a really big cat, it came up to his knee. As it was about to skirt away, it's knees buckled and it fell over. It's breathing hitched and it's eyes closed. Stiles gulped, panicing.

“Hey, hey nonono. I just saved you. You're going to be okay.” He heaved it into his arms. “Come on kitty. Okay.” It was heavy.He went up his front step and paused at the doorknob. Sheriff Stilinski wasn't a big fan of cats, they gave him allergies. But he couldn't just leave the thing in the street. He took the cat up to his room, grabbing a box and a bed sheet out of the closet on the way up. He placed the sheet in the box, put the box in the corner of his room and then called Scott. Scott spent so much time at a vets office, he could help. It rang twice.

“Whats up?” asked Scott.

“Hey, I need you to come over.” Stiles said looking at the cat. It was breathing, but it hitched once or twice.

“Now?” said Scott confused.

“Yes, now.” 

“...I'm at work Stiles. I can't right now-”

“But thats great, I need some help. I found this cat, I think it's sick or something.”

“Hold on.” there was a pause on the other line. “Hello?” it was Dr. Deaton.

“Hi, Doc, listen. I found this cat wondering around. It doesn't have a collar, it's acting a little weird, kind of drunk, and I think it just fainted.”

“Okay, can you take it's temperature?” he asked calmly.

“Yeah sure, hang on a sec.” Stiles went into the bathroom and found a digital thermometer in the medicine cabinet.

“You'll also need some petroleum jelly.” added Dr. Deaton. Stiles paused.

“You mean I have to-” 

“Yes Stiles, that's how animals have their temperature taken.” assured the Doc, amused. Stiles grimaced, grabbed some petroleum jelly and went back to his room. The cat was still unconscious. He shifted the cat to make it more comfortable. But that did not ease his discomfort.

“Do I really have to... you know.” he grumbled

“Stiles, depending on its temperature I can probably diagnose her over the phone.” 

Stiles grabbed a tissue from his desk, dabbed it in the jelly and spread it gently over the creatures backside.

“Well, its a boy.” Stiles began. “And his temperature is...” he whistled. “104.1 degrees.”

“Alright, a slight fever. Cats normally run about 102.5 degrees. Disorientation could just be from a glucose imbalance combined with fever. If you have some honey in the house, you should put some on a spoon and let him lick it off. No seizures? Feel his stomach, are there any bumps or lumps?”

“No seizures yet and...” Stiles glided his hands cautiously over the animal, checking thoroughly. “No bumps and or lumps.”

“Alright Mr. Stilinski, I think he'll be just fine. If anything changes, bring him over. He needs some rest and some food, he's probably a little dehydrated. Do you have any fish, or rabbit meat? I doubt you have cat food on hand.”

“Actually I bought some sushi with tuna and salmon in it for dinner.” 

“Excellent. Take out the fish, mix it with 1 raw egg yolk and a little olive oil. You can even mix in a little of the white rice. Lay out some water for him. Call me tomorrow to check how things are.” 

“Thanks Doc. I appreciate it.” Stiles said relieved. He scratched the cat behind his ears.

“No problem, take care.”

“You too.” They hung up. He heard a car pull into the drive way. Uh-oh. He ran to the door.

“Stiles?” called the Sheriff.

“Yeah Dad?” he shouted back, coming down the stairs two at a time.

“You okay?” asked Sheriff Stilinski. Stiles rounded the corner to the kitchen and tried to play cool.

“Yeah, fine why?” he leaned nonchalantly against the door frame, awkwardly crossing his arms across his chest. His dad raised his eyebrows, looking suspicious.

“Well … you left $20 worth of takeout … on the hood of your car … and the door was open . . .” his eyes narrowed and he placed his hands on his hips. “There are tire marks on the road...”

Stiles sputtered, trying to buy time to figure out what to say, “Well, I have a um a test tomorrow and I needed to come in and I heard the phone ring and so I ran to answer in case, in case it was you calling-”

“Stiles.” said the Sheriff, exhausted from his day at work.

“But hey, thanks . . . for bring it in. You know that test, I'm just going to take my food and eat up stairs, study and stuff.” Stiles lunged forward and grabbed the sushi, and twisted himself around the chairs to the fridge where he tried to grab the honey, the oil and an egg. He then grabbed a bowl and turned to face his father. Sheriff Stilinski looked at the food and then at his son.

“Coach wants us to bulk up.” Stiles supplied lamely “Honey. Raw eggs. Protein.” he backed out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs. His father shook his head as he sifted through the bags of take out.

Stiles closed the door behind him, and walked over to the box. The cat was awake, it blinked weakly up at him.

“Hold on.” he whispered. He went to the bathroom, filled the bowl with water. He placed the bowl in the box. He then opened the sushi, unrolled it, set the veggies aside in the cap, poured on some oil, grabbed a pen off his desk and stirred it together. After that he cracked the egg and placed the yolk on top. Not sure what to do with the shell and egg white, he paced the room before throwing it out the window. He mixed it all together with the pen and placed the tin next to the water in the box. The cat tried to focus on the food, his head swaying back and forth. Stiles watched impatiently before remembering the honey. 

Unable to find a spoon, he dipped his finger in the honey and held it up to the cats nose. The cat gazed at him cautiously. For a long time neither of them moved, The cat stiffed his finger and then timidly licked it, staring at Stiles. Stiles kept perfectly still, not wanting to spook him. The cat licked all the honey off. Stiles hesitantly withdrew his hand, dipped it back in the honey and carefully offered some more to the creature. The cat ate a bit easier and even started to purr.

“You got a name?” Stiles murmured quietly. The cat purred, Stiles got some more honey. “How about... Martin?” Stiles considered the unhealthy fact that he was now naming pets after Lydia, but disregarded it seeing as how it was only temporary. Martin rubbed his head against Stiles' knuckles, purring incessantly. He was still very weak, his legs shook as he shimmed over to the food in the dish. Still wary, Martin stiffed it and looked at it for a long time before taking a tiny bite. His ears twitched and he debated for a long time before taking another bite. He switched to water and Stiles watched him.

He had a dog when he was really young, she died shortly after his mom. Heartbreak they said. He thought maybe that was the reason they didn't have pets. His need to keep Martin a secret increased 10 fold. 

He pet Martin, and the cat leaned sleepily into his hand. After a while of petting and eating the cat seemed to be spent. His legs trembled and he lowered himself onto the sheet and quickly fell asleep.

Stiles stood up slowly so as not to disturb him and went onto his computer. His phone buzzed,

'Scott McCall: hows the cat?' it was a text. Stiles took a picture of Martin and sent it.  
'Me: fine. sleeping.'   
'Scott McCall: wOAH dUDE iT'S hUGE'  
'Me: i know!! he weighs lik 35 40 pounds'  
'Scott McCall: did u name him?' Stiles paused before typing  
'Me: martin. don't laugh'  
'Scott McCall: lol no i wont'  
'Scott McCall: no tags, no nothing?'  
'Me: nope. nothing. he has this blueish lookinh fur I think he might be a hybrid or sumthing' 

Scott was searching the internet. 'blue tabby cats 40 lbs hybrid'. There was a link with a picture that looked a lot like Martin. 

“The F2 Blue Savannah Cat: Savannah Cats are a domesticated breed of cat with some degree of the the African Serval heritage. F2 Savannah kittens range in price form $4,000 to $6,000, sometimes more depending on the breeder. They range in size from 10 lbs – 25lbs. The Blue (sometimes referred to as 'silver' or 'smoke') can have spots, stripes, or a marble pattern on their coat. The body is long and lean with back legs slightly longer the their front legs and a head that is small in proportion compared to regular house cats. They love to play in water as are more prone to a mixed diet with an equal amount of greens, grains and meats. They can be trained to use the toilet and act a lot like dogs with a large amount of energy and companionship.”

'Me: have you ever heard of a savannah cat?'  
'Scott McCall: i've never seen one but i know that their pretty expensive and like a substitute for people who want tigers and stuff.'  
'Scott McCall: ...'  
'Scott McCall: is martin a savannah cat?'  
'Me: hes way outside the weight range but yea i think so.'  
'Scott McCall: who ever lost him probably wants him back bad . . .'  
'Me: yeah'  
'Scott McCall: maybe he has one of this chip things for missing animals'  
'Me: yea'  
'Scott McCall: you want to keep him dont you? :)'

Stiles sat back in his chair. In that short time he had grown attached to him. Martins faint content breathing, stronger then before, crooned in the otherwise quiet room.

'Me: im going to do some homework. are you taking the bike or do you want me to drive you tomorrow?'  
'Scott McCall: bike. talk to you soon?'  
'Me: yeah good night man'  
'Scott McCall: goodnight'

Stiles put down the phone, scratched his head, and stretched in the chair. A loud grumble came from his stomach. He glanced at the clock. 10:30. His dad was in his office by now, mulling over work. If he was really quiet he could probably sneak downstairs and microwave some of yesterday's pizza. Stiles eased himself out of the chair and crept downstairs, his socks proving to be excellent spy gear.

The end timer buzzed, Stiles turned around with the pizza and jumped. His father standing in the hall, looking at him with dubious skepticism. Stiles looked at his plate as if something he could say would be written in the cheese.

“Hungry?” asked the sheriff.

“Coach. Carbs.” he answered. He nodded gawkily with an unconvincing smile before hedging past his father and up the stairs. He got his backpack from the corner of his room, took out a chemistry book and opened it to the chapter they were studying in class. He munched on the pizza absently. Half an hour later he had no idea what he had read and decided to go to bed. He went back downstairs, and took a cup of coffee into his father.

“'Night, Dad.” he said.  
“'Night, Stiles.” said the Sheriff, lost in his paperwork. “Hey Stiles...” he yawed, Stiles turned around, almost out the door.  
“Yeah Dad?” he asked, nervously.  
“You don't have a girl up in your room do you?” asked the Sheriff, eyeing his son beadily. Stiles guffawed,  
“What? Pssht, no Dad. Come on.”   
“Because I am the Sheriff, and I will find out if you were hiding someone up there” he tested, examining Stiles bad poker face.  
“No Dad, I can safely say . . . there is not a girl in my room.” he grinned toothily at his dad. “Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight Son.” sighed the Sheriff, picking the coffee off the table and taking a grateful swig.

*

Stiles awoke in the night to see the bathroom light on from under the cracked door in the hallway. A few moments later he heard a flush and the door creaked open. Martin slinked through the opening, looking up and down the hall before crossing into Stiles room. He froze when he saw Stiles looking at him. Stiles blinked confusedly, the cat tilted his head gazing at him. Stiles remembered reading that Savannah cats could be trained to use the toilet, and he was to tired to be fascinated. He flopped back into his sheets and watched as Martin walked painfully to the box, and hopped in. He watched the box and made clicking sounds with his tongue. Martins head peaked over the lip. Stiles continued his clicking and draped his arm lazily over the edge of his bed. Martin looked at him, his big eyes reflecting the moonlight. He stepped out of the box gingerly and slowly made his way over to Stiles' hand. He sniffed it, rubbed his face on it a few times and purred. Stiles patted the bed next to him. The cat twitched his ears and mewed pathetically, still to weak to get up by himself. The young man leaned over and picked Martin up. The cat lied down against Stiles' side and Stiles felt him purr, warm and content. They both were asleep within minutes.

* 

The next morning stiles awoke to a knock on his bedroom door. Stiles sat bolt up, disturbing the cat who looked at him bewildered. Before he could even think, his dad opened the door. Stiles froze, waiting for his dad to get angry or go the dark place he went to when ever anything reminded him of his wife or both. But the cat had already leapt off the bed and hid in the box. The box and the cat were obscured from view by his desk.

“Stiles, I'm off to work, I'll see you tonight.” said the sheriff oblivious to Stiles' inner turmoil. He seemed to be checking something on his phone.  
“Yeah. Okay. See you. Later.” he choked out. His dad nodded, closed the door and his footsteps echoed down the stairs.  
“Have a great day at school, love you.” he shouted  
“Thanks! Love you too!” Stiles shouted back. The front door slammed and Stiles heard the car outside start up and exit the driveway. He looked at Martin.  
“That was close.” he breathed. Martin looked at him over the edge of the box. Stiles held up a finger. “Stay here, I'll bring you some food.” Downstairs he grabbed a granola bar for himself and drank some milk from the carton and then got a bowl to make something for the cat. He found a can of tuna, an egg, and then a plastic bag of premixed salad. Remembering what the website said, he added some with the olive oil and mashed it all together with some leftover white rice from a takeout box.  
He presented it happily to his house guest, who mewed appreciatively before eating the whole thing. Stiles showered, got dressed, and brushed his teeth, checking on the cat obsessively.   
“I'm going to school, I'll be back in a couple hours. My dad wont be home until late.” he told Martin, who did a convincing job of listening “I'm putting on some music so you have some company, sort of, I guess.” He looked at the creature, a small tug in his heart. He named it. He was attached to the cat. He wanted to keep him. Suddenly the whole world sucked. “When I get back, I'm going to take you to the vet tso we can find out who you belong to.” Martin bowed his head and rested it on his paws, looking sadly at Stiles. He kneeled down next to the box and stroked the cat's head. He purred. “Sorry, buddy. I'm locking the doors behind me. See you when I get back.” He stood up and swung his backpack over his shoulders. Martin flexed his paws and closed his eyes, getting ready for a long nap.

Stiles locked the door behind him got into his jeep and drove off. In his rearview mirror he saw Martin looking out the window, watching him leave. He felt really sad, he didn't want to give up Martin to some fussy fat pink-boa-wearing cat breeder (the person Stiles had concocted at Martin's owner). In class he was distracted, worried that Martin was having a seizure, or choking on his food or something. 

“Hey Stiles.” asked Scott. Stiles had been getting books out of locker when Scott came up to his left smiling.  
“What if I don't want to give him away, Scott?” he demanded, frustrated, shoving books he didn't need into his backpack.   
“Okay, um . . .” said his friend, confused.  
“What if – he's happier with me, you know? What if, he ran away from home because his owners were mean to him? Okay how can I just turn him in?” he threw his bag over his shoulder dropping papers on the floor. Scott bent down to help him pick them up. He noticed Stiles' hands trembling.  
“What if he's really sick? Or he's scared? He trusts me, you know, and I can't just hand him over to god knows who because-” his voice cracked and he sniffed.  
“Stiles. Dr. Deaton just wants to make sure he's okay. Then we'll decide what to do.” Scott reasoned. He handed Stiles his notes, and pretended not to notice Stiles wipe his eyes.  
“Okay. Okay. You know I just want to know he's okay.” Stiles stammered  
“Okay, I'm sure he's fine. I'll meet you at the animal clinic after school okay?”  
“Yeah, see you there.”

The rest of the day passed quickly, but each minute droned on like any other high school. When the bell rang and Stiles almost sprinted to his car. He waved at Scott on his bike, who gave him the thumbs up. 

Stiles started his car and started the familiar drive home. He was almost to his street when he thought he saw strange shadows out of the corner of his eyes. He slowed down, peering into the trees. When he saw nothing else he continue all the way home, pulled into his driveway and went to unlock the door. He went to put is key in the lock but found it open slightly already. 

He pushed on the door, creeping into the house. His senses were alive, taking in everything. Nothing was out of place. He gabbed the lacrosse stick that was leaning against the wall buy the coats. He went up the stairs on his tiptoes, pushed his door open and gasped. 

The sheets were torn off his bed, his closet doors were hanging by their hinges, books and papers were flung across the floor, drops of blood spattered on the walls and his window was open with the screen missing. Martins box was over turned, the water seeping across the floor, the sheets had smears of blood on them. He spun wildly around.

“Martin?!” he got down on his stomach and checked under the bed. “Martin?!!” he ran to the window. “Martin!?” a faint pitiful meow drawled through the silence. Stiles sprinted down the stairs, and bolted out the door. “Martin!” he made clicking noised with his tongue, following Martin's feeble mewls. He dashed across the street shifting carefully through the tall grass until he found him. 

All color left Stiles' face, he almost threw up. Martin was looking bad. Ghastly shreds raked across his belly, threatening to spill his intestines into the dirt. Patches of fur were missing and several scratches oozed blood into his thick fur. He whimpered. 

Stiles took off his sweatshirt and gently lifted him into his arms. He rushed back to the car, settling Martin in the drivers side and then peeled out of the driveway.

“Hang on buddy, it's going to be alright.” he murmured, “Just sit tight, I'm going to take care of you.” He ran two stop signs and scared at least three pedestrians in his flight to the clinic. He skidded into a parking space, dashed out of the car and sprinted through the front doors, clutching Martin for dear life.

“Stiles,” began Dr. Deaton happily, “Scott isn't here yet, but . . . Stiles what's wrong?” he trailed off, taking in the full picture. Stiles was sweating, his hair plastered to his face, his eyes red, and he seemed unable to speak. It was then that the doctor noticed the blood dripping to the floor.

“Come to the back.” he said sternly, switching to business mode. Stiles followed him quickly. “Set him down.” Stiles placed him on the cold table as softly as possible. The doctor unwrapped the cat, who was wheezing in pain. He paused, stunned before snapping into action. He began opening drawers, and jars, gathering supplies. “Stiles, I need you to tell me what happened.”

“I-I-I don't know. I-I just c-came home. My door w-was open. A-a-and there was blood. H-he was in the g-grass like that. T-thats how I f-found him.” Stiles crossed his arms across his chest, his shirt soaked in blood, trembling from head to foot. “You g-gotta help him, Doc.” he sniffed.

“Well, I'll do what I can.” Dr. Deaton tactfully arranged Martin in a position so as better to treat him. He took out a needle. “This is just a local anesthetic.” he deftly injected the cat with the painkillers. Martin's posture became less rigid and he stopped shaking. Scott walked in, and stopped in his tracks.

“Scott I need you to hold the cats head for me, please.” demanded Dr. Deaton. Scott nodded, dropping his bag on the floor and whisked behind the table. 

The second Scott touched him, Martins eyes flew open. He thrashed wildly, squeaking and wheezing. Scott backed away quickly, but something was already happening. The cats limbs were lengthening, the fur disappeared into porcelain skin and quite suddenly a voluptuous naked girl was on the table cloaked only by the sweatshirt, gasping and whimpering. She looked around wildly searching for something. Her hand shot out, and wound itself in Scott's shirt. She pulled him down, fixing him with a piercing gaze.

“You. Get. Derek.” she rasped. “Please. I need. Derek.” Stiles stood straight up, unable to even think at this point. He ran his fingers through his hair, tears falling from down his face. He knocked over several things, glass broke and lights flickered. Scott had already wolfed out but stayed still, waiting for further information from the strange girl.

“You need to lie still.” called Dr. Deaton over the commotion. “You've been badly injured.” She didn't seem to hear him.

“I have. To tell. He. He has to know.” she was panting with the effort of remaining conscious. “You. You have. Have to tell him.” her wide eyes pleaded with Scotts, willing him to understand. Scott put his hand on hers, looking intently at her.

“What? What does he have to know?” he whispered. She fought to keep him in focus, tears welling in her eyes. “I'll tell him. I'll go right now. What is it?” he asked earnestly.

“He's coming.” her grip slackened and her breath shuddered. She sagged onto the table, unconscious. She was shrinking. Hair bloomed over her flesh, her face elongated and then she was just an ordinary cat.


	2. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has to be a hero to help stop the bleeding, but Martin's back story may be more then he can handle.  
> (Side Note: DUUUUUDE! Thanks for all the views guys, you TOTALLY made my day. Unfortunately I won't be able to update this often. I have a summer job and I'm a REALLY slow typer. But ... this was what I didn't post yesterday. I was waiting to see if I got a response (and boy did I get one.) Sorry for any and all grammer mistakes and typos, I'm a lazy dyslexic so thats a recipe for failed english. I'll try to update weekly if I can, but no promises. Again thank you for your support <3 it means a lot.

Scott was already out the door. Stiles was holding on to the operating table as if it was the last raft off the Titanic. Dr. Deaton was looking through a drawer on the other side of the room.

"Stiles." he called to him, his tone equally soothing and commanding, "I cannot treat her as a cat because there is the danger of her morphing into a human and injuring herself further, nor can I take her to the hospital where she will transform into cat when she is weak." he paused, "I need you to have a little courage.” Dr. Deaton looked intently at Stiles, willing him to understand the gravity of the situation. “I'm going to force her into human consciousness. I need you to hold her down while I heal her. That means I will be stitching her up." he looked at Stiles with the harsh reality. "I do not have sufficient pain medication nor the time to obtain any. If I don't stop the bleeding, she will die."

Stiles breathing became ragged. He tried to suppress the dry heaves the smell of blood was already giving him.

"Can you do that for her?" Dr. Deaton's voice seemed to come from far away.

"Sure, Doc. Anything you say." Stiles gulped in air, careful not to breathe through his nose.

"Alright." Dr. Deaton opened a small glass vile and smeared a blue paste in a line down Martin's face. Her eyes flew open. Her legs stretched down, her arms stretched out, wild dark hair tumbled from her scalp. The girl was back. She looked about Stiles' age. Her eyes were a pale green, like peppermint, and were currently zooming around the room looking for an attacker. Stiles leaned over her. She focused on him, her body seemed to relax a bit.

"Hey." His voice cracked. He held her hand. "This is, this is Dr. Deaton. H-he's going to take care of you, okay? It's going to be alright, but you have to trust me." She squeezed his hand, tears drawing white lines in the blood on her face. He felt his lip tremble. "But it's going to hurt." He brushed hair out of her face with trembling fingers. "Don't worry, I'll be here the whole time. I won't leave you." She pulled his hand in hers to her face, pressing her lips to knuckles.

"Thank you, Stiles." She rasped.

Dr. Deaton was spreading a thick yellow sap over her wounds, disinfecting them.

"Ready?" He asked her. She nodded, eyes closed stoically. He looked at Stiles who took a deep breath.

"Ready."

Dr. Deaton started stitching. The veins stood out on Martin's neck as she tried to contain her screams. She convulsed involuntarily forcing Stiles to hold her down by her shoulders. She shuddered and twitched in agony, trying as hard as she could not to move. Stiles found a place on the wall to focus on, fearing he would be unable to continue should he realize what he was doing. Horrible sounds escaped with her rapid breathing, she hooked her legs around the base of the table. Some of the skin had already started to die in her speedy healing abilities. Dr. Deaton sniped it away with surgical scissors, too safely lost in his work to betray his emotions. He used tweezers to remove rocks and other things that had contaminated her wounds in the dirt. 

Stiles couldn't help himself, he watched as the needle pushed and pulled her skin, closing the chasm where her vitals loomed dangerously close to the surface. The silver pin glinted off the light coming in from the window. She held onto Stiles as of he was the only solid thing left on earth. He was putting his full weight on her but in wasn't enough. Dr. Deaton added what weight he could but still she impulsively squirmed under the onslaught. 

Soon her gasps died down to occasional whimpers. They were almost done. Dr. Deaton shot Stiles a wide eyed look. Stiles looked back, trying to understand what he was trying to convey. The doctor looked pointedly at Martin, whose head was turned into Stiles' arm. Stiles gripped her tighter, prepared for whatever Dr. Deaton was about to do. Dr. Deaton slipped one hand behind her back and rested the other under her breast. Her eyes shot open.

"No, wait!" She cried. There was a sickening snap. She screamed, jerking wildly, but Stiles hung on murmuring words of comfort. Dr. Deaton reset her ribs as she gasped pathetically, crying silently into Stiles arm.

"One more." sighed the doctor. She held on for dear life. Crack. Dr. Deaton set her leg. He moved on to bandage less deadly cuts and scraps. Stiles stroked her forehead tenderly, shushing and chanting in her ear. "It's done, you're okay, we're done, you're fine, no more, it's okay, it's okay."

Her breathing slowed and her eyes fluttered, but she fought sleep.

"It's alright." said Dr. Deaton "You can sleep now, you won't turn back."

Martin had no energy to even answer. Her flesh sank into the table, her body relaxed, she shuddered into a dreamless painless sleep. Dr. Deaton took a clean folded blanket out of a kennel and threw it over her.

"I think we should preserve her dignity, don't you agree Mr. Stilinski?"

Stiles nodded unable to speak. He slowly untangled himself from her, taking great care not to disturb her slumber. He stood up shakily, leaning against a counter top for support. The silence stretched on.

"I think I'll make myself a cup of tea, would you like one?" asked the doctor, looking concertedly at the young man. Stiles shook his head, still unable to find his voice. "I insist. You've been through a traumatic experience and I think you should sit down." Stiles nodded and made his way clumsily to the waiting room.

Stiles sat in one of the chairs, shaking uncontrollably, his head in his hands. Moments later he was brought a hot cup of tea.

“What is she, Doc?” he whispered, unable to attain anymore volume.

“There is no name for what she is.” said the doctor quietly, taking a seat beside him. “You could call her a werecat if you wish, but thats not entirely accurate-”

“Doc, please. No riddles today.” Stiles rubbed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. “Just tell me.” Dr. Deaton turned his mug in his hands, staring into it's depths.

“Her name is Five.” he sighed. “Shes one of the Cat Walkers, or Cat People.”

“Cat Walkers?” Stiles gulped. “What did this to her?” he breathed, unable to fathom who would hurt her.

“One of her pride I assume,” said the doctor, lost in thought. “probably as a message to Derek.” he paused, debating how much of the story to tell. “Cat Walkers and their prides are different then Werewolf packs. Their Alpha has absolute power over the group.”

“So does Derek.” objected Stiles.

“Not entirely.” he reasoned. “Derek, like all Werewolf Alphas, has power only through respect, loyalty, and blood. Any one of his pack could leave if they wished, join a new pack, go solo. Cat Walkers are bound to their Alpha by ancient magic. They cannot leave unless he or she gives permission, or in rare cases, if they are bound to another. They have to obey the Alphas every command, cater to his or her needs, and serve them without question. Their happiness is solely dependent on their Alpha's.” he paused, looking sadly at his tea. “This is not the first time Five has come here.”

“She's trying to get away.” Stiles voice cracked. Dr. Deaton nodded.

“Her Alpha, Renu, is a cruel man. Derek and her met when they were still young. She was sent first to infiltrate his pack. Derek's mother was Alpha at the time, and she took Five in, thinking that somehow the little girl had broken her enchantment. This was not the case.” 

Five stirred. The two froze, waiting for her to wake up or fall back to sleep. Her head lolled to the side and she fell back into dormancy.

“At some point her loyalties divided.” Dr. Deaton continued. “She is still soul-bound to Renu, but someone . . . someone in the Hale pack broke her or claimed her enough to allow her to tell them everything. How Renu had sent her, what he was and what he was going to do, and because of her the Hales were prepared when Renu came.”

“What was he going to do?” asked Stiles.

“Renu,” started the doctor softly, “was going to massacre them all. The entire Hale line. The women, the children, wolf, human, everyone. And when he was done, he wanted their land as hunting ground.”

“Hunting ground?” echoed Stiles, horrified.

“A Cat Walkers' prefered diet...” he turned to face Stiles, and ancient sadness in his eyes. “is people.”

Stiles sat in silence. Unaware that he had stopped breathing. Small ripples formed in his untouched drink as he tried to comprehend what he had just been told.

“When a Cat Walker betrays their Alpha, the bond they share doubles to eliminate the possibility of it reoccurring.” Dr. Deaton continued, “Later Renu attacked again, punishment for contaminating his pride, but Five escaped to warn the Hales of his attack one more. Renu was severally injured and forced to retreat.” 

“So 'He's coming' . . . Does she mean Renu?” asked Stiles. Dr. Deaton nodded

“I thinks it's safe to assume so.” he pondered softly. “To my knowledge, Five caused quite a commotion in the unnatural world. The one thing an Alpha has to ask permission for is claim, and Five has always refused. Without claim she cannot access her true form, doomed to be either cat or human, never both. Renu has kept her out of spite for disobeying him, and a twisted love for her rebelliousness. She was his favorite.” he paused. “If he banished her, she would die.” 

“Just like that?” Stiles asked softly.

“Unfortunately no, it's a very long and painful process. Months of incurable pain and sadness. She would starve, whither away or commit suicide.” he stated blankly.

The sat in the waiting room quietly. Dr. Deaton and Stiles were lost in their own worlds. Stiles gazed at Five.

“Why is her name Five?”

“She was the fifth born in her litter.” Dr. Deaton said simply. Out of everything, this put a fire in Stiles' belly. No one had even given her a real name. She looked so helpless, lying on the table, her brow furrowed from something in her dreams. He would find a way to free her, he promised himself. He had to.

The front door opened with a bang! Derek stormed in, followed by Scott and Isaac. 

“Where is she?” Derek commanded, ablaze with purpose. He saw Five through the door way and swept towards her only to be blocked by Stiles. Both looked shocked by the predicament. 

“Move.” he demanded. “I don't ask twice.” Danger flashed in Derek's eyes.

“S-she's sleeping, you can't go back there.” Stiles stammered.

“Stiles.” Derek picked him up by the front of his shirt. “Move.” and he dropped him to his left, and went to go through. Stiles threw his arm out, trying to deter him again. 

“She needs to rest Derek.” Derek looked at him incredulously before shoving him hard in the chest to the side.

“Please Derek, she's hurt.” Stiles protested, rubbing his shoulder. Derek paused at the door, scrutinizing the sleeping girl. He seemed to shrink a little bit, his hands flexed, and he slowly closed the door on her. He didn't move for a while, they all waited patiently. He turned to face Dr. Deaton. 

“What. Happened.” he growled. 

“I was not the one who found her.” the doctor replied cooly. There was always a tension between the Doc and Derek that no one quite understood, but it pulsed violently in the room like a heartbeat. Dr. Deaton pointed at Stiles, who looked a little scared but held his ground as Derek closed the space between them in three paces.

“Stiles, you have 60 seconds to tell me everything before I rip your throat out.” 

“Um. Just 60 seconds?” piped Stiles backing into the wall, “Because that seems kinda short to tell you all the things that-”

“50”

“Okay! Um, I found this cat in the road and it was kind of wobbling around, and then there was a car, and I took him uh her inside and then the Doc said to feed her fever and take her rabbits, then she left the bathroom light on and my dad thought I was sleeping around so we slept together-” 

Derek pushed Stiles into the wall, growling angrily “She was a cat! She slept on my bed! I didn't know! It's a little awkward now because of the petroleum jelly, you know. Because... um then I went to school and Scott said she was B12 Blue Cat from Africa so I went home and my room was trashed and she was in the grass with her guts hanging out-” 

Derek shoved him ruffly, holding Stiles up against the wall, his toes barely touching the floor. Stiles decided his time was almost up so he spoke quickly, his words overlapping each other. “Ahhhhhhhh. So I took her here, and she freakout when she saw Scott and then I had to hold her down while we stitched her up and thats all that happened.” Derek started to let go but then Stiles remembered something, “Except for the shadows.” Derek returned Stiles to his former altitude pressing him painfully into the concrete. “Oh my god, why do you have to do that?” Stiles whined.

“What about the shadows?” he barked.

“Owowow, okay, could you please be a bit more gentle?” 

“STILES!”

“Okay! Alright. I saw some big things in the trees on the way home, I couldn't see what they were but they were there. Thats it, thats all, thats all I swear.” Derek lowered Stiles to the ground, glaring at him.

Derek turned into the room, his forehead wrinkled with thought. Isaac blinked a couple times.

“I'm sorry, did that make sense? Because I couldn't follow that.” he blurted.

“Derek we have to prepare-” started Dr. Deaton.

“We don't know for-” Derek reasoned

“Yes we do.”

“Whats going on.” Isaac asked

“Who is she Derek?” Scott broke in.

“We can answer that later, right now-” 

“I want to know whats going on.”

“Where did she come from?”

“Who's 'He' Derek?” 

“Derek-”

“What do we do?”

“Derek-”

“Derek-”

“WHO IS 'HE' DEREK”

“Renu.” They all turned to face Stiles. Something old had taken root in Stiles eyes, he seemed tired and sad. “His name is Renu.”


	3. Chapter 3: Riddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five has got a message, but her delivery is a little strange. What happens when the whole gang shows up?

After a rather awkward silence Dr. Deaton rose. "I think we will be needing more tea." he mused and disappeared into his office. After another long minute, Isaac sniggered.

"Renu?" he snorted "That sounds like girls' shampoo."

"It's no laughing matter, Isaac." Derek boomed, rubbing the nape of his neck.

"Okay, sorry." said Isaac, subconsciously copying the motion.

"So . . . who is she?" asked Scott, jabbing his thumb towards the closed door.

"Her name is Five, she's a shape-shifter like us." Derek sighed, taking a seat on one of the flimsy chairs.

"But she's a cat." Scott remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Wait - she's a cat?" asked Isaac confusedly, attempting to inconspicuously peek through the slim window on the door.

"Yes, she's a cat." Derek huffed, his patience dwindling.

"But you said she was a were-wolf."

"I said she was a shape-shifter, Isaac." shot Derek exasperated. "Obviously there is more then one shape to shift into."

"Please, gentleman." hushed Dr. Deaton, returning with a tray of mismatched mugs. "Let's not wake her with raised angry voices."

"Hey, Doc?" started Scott, taking a steaming cup.

"Yes, Scott?" he replied offering a cup to Derek, who refused.

"Could I call my mom? She might be able to help her, right?"

"An excellent idea, Scott. She may also be able to bring some painkillers as this particular type of injury will take a while to heal."

"Wait what?" interjected Stiles, seemingly coming out of a far off thought. "Doc, what do you mean? What do you mean it will take a while to heal? Like a day?

"No."

"... what do you mean 'No'? What does that mean? Wonderwolf over there would take like 2 hours to humpty dumpty magic themselves back from this. She's like the same, right? Right, Doc?" his voice broke, he spoke animatedly, his hands flailing "A couple hours? A day tops? Stop shaking your head! She's fine! I just watched her start healing myself! I HAD TO HOLD HER DOWN WHILE YOU UNHEALED HER DON'T TELL ME-STOP SHAKING YOUR HEAD! DOC!"

"I'm sorry, Stiles." he said coolly "She will need a great amount of attention. Her stitches will have to be changed twice a day so her skin doesn't heal over them. She will be in constant agony from her wounds, fever, hunger and the physio-emotional damage from having her blood shed by kin." he sat against the counter top. "Oh yes, it will take her a very long time to heal."

"Okay, like how long Doc?" Stiles urged, aggravated.

"Well, it's difficult to say." the Doctor turned calmly to face him, sensing hostility. "I should venture to guess that her fever will go away by the end of tomorrow, and she should be able to start to walk by the end of the week. However, the agony she feels could leave her weakened for several months, it may even never go away."

An invisible weight seemed to drag hang over the waiting room. No one moved.

"Never?" croaked Derek.

"It is a possibility. A very large possibility. One we should prepare for." said the Doc.

"Is there nothing we can do?" Scott stepped forward, looking crestfallen.

"No, Scott. I'm afraid this is an 'only time will tell' situation." Dr. Deaton said quietly

Derek rubbed his eyes, exhausted, but Stiles seemed to have more energy then ever.

"So, so what? That's it? Are we just go to sit here a-a-and sign her off? Are we all satisfied that that will be her life?" he roared.

"Stiles-" began Scott, his raising his hand as if to console.

"No!" Stiles jerked away from him, "No, thats not enough!"

There was a loud bang and the sound of breaking glass.

"Derek!" Five wailed. Derek was up, over the counter and opening the door before most of the party had realized the source of the noise, with Stiles hot on his heels.

Five was on her side, gipping the edge of the operating table. Her eyes flickered wildly around, disoriented in the bright light. "Derek!" she screamed again, unable to see him. Derek skidded on his knees next to the table, bringing his face close to hers, gripping her hand in his.

"I'm right here, I'm right here." he soothed. Her hand tightened on his until her knuckles were white. She seemed temporarily blind in the bright room, she blinked trying to find him.

"He's coming, Derek! He's coming!" her lip quivered. "He's coming. Derek, I'm so so sorry, he's coming. He's coming." she whispered.

"I know, I know, it's alright. It's going to alright. You're safe now." he smiled at her, trying to put her at ease.

"No, no." she hissed, and she started to cry. "Derek, no. You don't understand. He is not coming for me." she pulled him in close, her hand in his shirt like she had done with Scott, "He knows it was you," she rasped "he knows. Derek." Tears streamed down Five's face, she placed her hand on his cheek. "It's my fault."

"How?"

"You are the last Hale." she smiled weakly. "How else could I leave if it was not you?"

"It is not your fault." Derek whispered. Everyone stood on the outskirts of the room, giving them as much space as possible. Stiles watched anxiously, chewing on the neck of his shirt. Scott was texting his mom, asking her to come as soon as she could. Isaac switched back and forth from total unblinking stares, to looking everywhere but the girl. Whether his behavior was from the wounds, the blood, or the lack of clothing was unclear. Dr. Deaton was wiping his surgical equipment clean, unimpressed with the situation, but eavesdropping.

"It is." she whispered "It. Is." She gasped convulsively, her head jerked to the side. When her face was visible again her eyes burned a bright glowing green, her nostrils flared, and when she spoke, it sounded as if many voices were whispering out of the corners of the room. She stared at nothing, lost, her face and body twitching like a clockwork toy. Dr. Deaton flung his arm out, instinctively shielding the teenagers against the wall. The lights flickered and whistling sound of speeding wind rattled the windows in the eerie room.

"I am always hungry." she breathed. Derek stood still, as if frozen by her words. "I must always be fed. The finger I touch, will soon turn red."

"Derek! Get back!" called Dr. Deaton. Isaac had wolfed out, Scott held him back. Stiles waited for someone to tell him to do something, tense and wide eyed. Five continued, her breathing ragged and uneven.

"The creature that howls at the midnight sky, lost and gone in innocent cries. Not by blood, he died in me. I took him again, but he still lives free. Silver touches left him bare, but I will find my treasure there."

She shuddered, her grip lessened on Derek's shirt, her arm went limp and fell against the cool table. She was unconscious. Her breathing became rapid. She twitched and huffed.

"Boys, out." Dr. Deaton commanded. He ushered them towards the door. "Scott is your mom coming?"

"She says she's on her way now." Scott stammered, trying to get a good look at the girl over the Doc's shoulder.

"Great, please wait here for her. Do not leave the premises. Isaac, Stiles, out. Now. Derek, you too." Derek, however seemed unable to move. Rooted to the spot by Five. With a surprising amount of strength, Dr. Deaton took his arm, hauled him to his feet and steered Derek out the door.

"Doc, I-"

"Now Stiles. Wait in the lobby if you must but leave the room." with a small shove he pushed Stiles out the door and closed it with a sharp snap. They all stood in shocked silence for a moment.

"What was that?" cried Isaac, throwing his arms in the air.

"A prophecy."

Everyone wheeled around. Unnoticed by them, Peter Hale had joined the fray, sitting in a chair, at ease with the world. Sitting across from him, looking the opposite of at ease, was Lydia and Allison.

"What are you doing here?" asked Scott. Lydia, who looked a little shell shocked, raised her hand.

"I was um, going home, and driving Allison home and we ended up here." she murmured. "Is there... Oh God, is there a body in there?" her voice broke. Allison put her arm around Lydia protectively. "There is, isn't there? Stiles, whose blood is that? Is it someone we know? Why - why are you all here already?"

"No, no it's not someone we know." said Stiles.

"Well." said Peter, with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Not all of us." That seemed to snap Derek out of his trance. They all looked at Derek.

"Why are you here?" Derek asked, glaring at Peter.

"I was merely passing. Caught a scent. How could I resist?" Instead of smug, which was obviously the face her was going for, Peter seemed hollow as if cold air was settling in his chest. "So, what mad adventure are we going on this time, nephew? What deadly, time consuming, last hurrah has your little kitten brought down on us?" he taunted "What riddle has she spouted so to tempt your fancies - that will lead us to nowhere where she will undoubtedly betrays us, again?" Peter looked up at the ceiling, his clenched jaw the only sign of his anger.

"She won't betray us." Derek said hoarsely.

"Oh no? Forgive me, but the odds are not with you." Peter drawled, still looking at the ceiling.

"You know that wasn't her fault." Peter leapt to his feet and was in Derek's face before anyone could react.

"Yes! Yes it was! My sister! Your mother! Everyone is dead! Because of her!" Peter roared. No one had ever seen Peter lose control before. A frightening picture, it was suddenly apparent how strong and Alpha-like he was. Derek held his ground, everyone stood tensely by, ready to break up the fight.

"Peter," cautioned Allison, "your family's death was Kate Argent's fault. Remember?" her soothing tone starting to taint with aggression "She got the information from Mr. Myers and Mr. Harris? You came out of a coma to kill them? Remember?" Peter composed himself, his face blank.

"Miss Argent," Peter began, "on what planet was your dear Auntie ever clever enough to come up with it all herself? Hmm?" He turned maliciously toward her, cocking his eyebrow. "How did she know who to contact? Who did she know? And tell me, if she was that clever - why is it that Derek and his sister are still alive? Hmm?"

Allison stared at him, her brow furrowed as she tried to process this new information.

"Don't listen to him." Lydia hissed, and she glowered at Peter "He likes to play with your mind."

"My dear, if you think that I play mind games, you should meet the lucky lady behind Door Number One." Peter sneered, nodding towards the operating room. Moments passed. You could hear a pin drop. Suddenly the door opened and in came Mrs. McCall in her hospital scrubs and Chris Argent, looking armed and dangerous.

"Where?" asked Mrs. McCall, her fly away hair coming out of her neat ponytail. Scott pointed and Mrs. McCall bolted through the crowd, effectively separating Peter and Derek in the process. The door shut behind her, leaving an awkwardness in her wake.

"Dad, what are you-"

"GPS. On your phone. You were late coming home. I swear I only check in emergencies." he said, taking in the situation with a sweep of the room. "So, whats going on."

"I don't know." said Allison looking pointedly at the group. The looked at each other, waiting for one of them to answer the obvious question. Stiles, however was past all listening. He chewed on his shirt collar distractedly, trying to piece together the girl in the other room. She was a cat, a were-cat, not really, she was just a human who was sometimes a cat, she's trapped by her Alpha, her Alpha is evil, the Alpha has tried to kill people a lot, she protected those people, the Alpha kept her against her will, he (Stiles tried not to think her too) ate people, Derek knew her, she knew the Hales, she's escaped before, she also apparently told prophesies, she was somehow connected to the Hale fire, she was alone, she was afraid, she was in pain, and right now she was in need of help. Stile's stomach churned. Peter didn't know anything. Dr. Deaton had said that she helped the Hales. Then again, Peter didn't seem like he was lying either.

Dr. Deaton opened the door, taking off bloody latex gloves. "Ah Lydia," he said, paying no attention to any other newcomers. "I have a girl here who has no means to obtain clothes. She seems to be about your size, would it be possible for you to perhaps-?"

"Sure, yeah." said Lydia, who looked thankful for a reason to leave. She grabbed her purse, taking out her keys.

"You shouldn't go alone." said Allison, standing to go with her.

"Agreed, Mr. Stilinski?" said Dr. Deaton, Stiles was jerked from his thoughts. "Would you accompany Miss Martin, please?"

"Ahh," said Stiles, looking at Allison and Lydia, and then to the divided werewolves, "if it's all the same Doc, I'd rather stay here." Stiles crossed his arms, as if they could protect him from protests. It was not effective.

"Stiles, there is nothing you can do here." coaxed the Doc. Stiles opened his mouth to retort, but the wild panic in Lydia's wide eyes caused him to nod and follow her out the door. He paused at the frame, gripping it, watching Lydia dash to her car. He spoke with his back to the room.

"If anything happens to her," he said, his voice low and serious, "by your hand or someone else's . . . I don't know what I'll do." he paused, sweat beading on his forehead, his eyes determined "But I do know that I know enough to not want me as an enemy." He calmly walked after Lydia, leaving the remaining group to look at each other, suspicious and defensive.


	4. Fashion Sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia spends some time with Stiles

They drove in silence through the rain, Stiles and Lydia. Lydia flexed her fingers on the steering wheel, looking as if she was trying to calm herself down. Stiles gazed out the window, lost in thought. They stayed like that for a good 15 minutes.

"Okay, so are you going to tell me whats going on or not?" Lydia demanded shrilly.

"All I did was find a cat." Stiles shrugged, a little dazed. "What could possibly happen. It was a normal cat. Just a normal everyday lost, abandoned cat. Yeah, it was big and yeah, it was smart, and yeah, it flushed the toilet, but why? Why couldn't it have been a normal cat?" Stiles spoke animatedly, smacking the back of his hand into his palm. "You know, I try to be a good person, okay? I see a sick cat, my best friend works at an animal shelter, what could go wrong. A war? Yeah, totally logical, you find a stray cat, obviously theres a war coming!" Stiles cranked his window down in frustration, slouching in his seat.

"So, it's not just a cat?"

"No it's not just a cat, Lydia!" Stiles shouted exasperatedly "It's a brain-washed fugitive Cat-Walker from a rogue pride of really bad Cat-Walkers that eats people, and kills were-wolves!"

Lydia stared intently at the road, her eyes frozen wide. "Okay," she said finally, "then who am I getting clothes for?"

"Her, the cat."

"But if she eats people and kills were-wolves, why would I give her my clothes?" she asked confusedly.

"She's not the bad guy," Stiles replied frustratedly "she's friends with Derek and she got hurt trying to find him and warn him that her bad-ass Alpha is coming to get him."

"Why is the Alpha after Derek?" she asked.

"He wants the Hale's territory, and now since almost all the Hales are dead – I guess it seemed easier for him to take it now, I don't know."

"So how'd she get hurt?"

"One of her pride slashed her up while I was at school" Stiles sighed sadly. Lydia slammed on the breaks, Stiles was burned by his seatbelt, they stopped in the middle of the deserted highway. "Wh-what are you-!?"

"Take off your shirt." demanded Lydia, Stiles didn't move. "Now Stiles!" Stiles looked at her incredulously and did what she asked.

"You've got her blood all over you, you don't think they can smell that?" she scolded, and took his shirt as soon as he had it over his head. She reached into the glove compartment, took out a lighter, lit the shirt on fire and threw it out the window. Stiles choked out a protest but had to shut his mouth quickly because Lydia was spraying her perfume all over him. "Did you get any on your pants?" she asked. Stiles checked, repressing a sneeze "Nope, I'm good."

"Good." and Lydia drove on as if nothing happened. "Now fill me in on the details."

Stiles recounted all he could remember from the day before, how he found her, Dr. Deaton's story, and filled in some assumptions he had.

"Then she woke up and told Derek that Renu was coming," Stiles left out the intimacy of their conversation, feeling something that was a mixture of anger and jealousy "then she went all stiff and started spouting nonsense."

"Nonsense? Was she, like having a seizure or something?" Lydia asked as she pulled into her driveway.

"No, her eyes started glowing this neon green color and..." he mused, closing the car door behind him "she looked like she was possessed."

"Possessed?" squeaked Lydia, her hand pausing on her front door.

"Not really possessed, Lydia." Stiles said hurriedly, recalling Lydia's stint with Peter Hale. "Will your parents mind that I'm here?" he added, to change the subject. Lydia had a very big house.

"Nope, both at work, and neither care." she said, walking up the stairs to her room. Stiles followed hesitantly. He wasn't sure if he was invited into her room, girls were kind of picky that way. So when they arrived he decided he would lean against the doorway so he was neither in nor out.

"So, what's she like?" she asked, suddenly cheerful.

"...I'm sorry?" Stiles gulped, trying to not be too awkward and comb every inch of Lydia Martin's Bedroom with his eyes.

"Catwoman. What's she like? I need to know how to dress her. What does she look like?" Lydia opened her closet purposefully, in her element.

"Well, uh, she about your size, maybe a little taller." Stiles began lamely.

"Okay," encouraged Lydia "Hair color, eye color, personality?"

"She's um... she has milky green eyes, lots of – lots of dark curly hair, she, she, I don't know Lydia, she was a cat the whole time I knew her, and when we actually had a conversation, she was screaming and bleeding everywhere." Stiles crossed his arms. "Do you have a shirt I could borrow?" he asked, suddenly aware of his nakedness.

Lydia reached up on her tiptoes to get a box off the top shelf in her closet labeled 'Jackson'. Stiles felt himself shrink a little. Jackson was a bigger guy then he was, plus his rival for several years in the quest for Lydia's heart, and also The last time they were all in a room together Lydia had proclaimed her love from him as he died. Sure he was alive and well now, but Jackson's clothes would be bigger on him and that made him self-conscious. But Lydia gave him a tee-shirt with a nice smile on her face and Stiles put it on gratefully.

"So, she's a fighter then? Someone who probably shouldn't be hindered by dresses. Also, she's in recovery, so comfortable clothes. She's taller then me, what type of skin does she have?" She asked, taking clothes out and holding them up to the mirror.

"Uhh, white."

"No I mean tone."

"... Caucasian?" he guessed. Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Okay, were her veins blueish or greenish under her skin."

"Blueish, I think." Stiles shrugged.

"Honestly, how do men even get dressed in the morning?" Lydia mumbled to herself, tossing a few more clothes on her bed. It wasn't too long before there was a fairly large pile and it didn't look like even a dent was made in Lydia's closet.

"Now, shoes!" she piped gleefully, "And some accessories!" Stiles smiled to himself. He often forgot this almost childlike side of Lydia. She was so often the genius, the banshee, the wack-o, the beauty, but rarely did she reveal this vulnerable young side to herself. Stiles felt a little warm spot in his chest looking at her fussing happily over matching the bracelets with jackets and belts. Lydia dug a suitcase out from under her bed and packed it expertly, fitting everything she felt was a necessity.

"Thats it, I think." she said, handing the surprisingly heavy bag to Stiles, whose knees buckled under it weight. She passed him out the door, her shoulder brushing his chest. He felt his heart pump in his ears. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw something. Turning back into the room, he recognized it instantly.

"Stiles?" called Lydia from the top of the stairs. She returned, "Whats wrong? Did I forget something?" she followed his eyes to the corner of her room, right between her dresser and the wall. She looked at him, blushing. Stiles face broke into a big crooked grin.

"Shut up." she scoffed, pushing him in the chest and heading toward the front door. Stiles followed her, heaving the bag but feeling lighter then air. Lydia had kept his birthday present.

They arrived at the clinic, Stiles took the suitcase out of the backseat and started towards the door. Realizing Lydia had not followed him, he looked around to see her still sitting in the driver's seat, hands clenched around the wheel. He put the bag down and walked casually back to the car. He leaned on her window.

"So, are you coming in or...?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah, no, yeah I'm coming in, just um, just..." she flexed her hands nervously on the wheel.

"Okay," he stood, guessing she needed a moment. "I'll see you inside?"

"Yeah, I'll be right in." said Lydia, a few octaves higher then normal. Stiles nodded, retrieved the bag and went in the back door, hoping to avoid the pack. Mrs. McCall was there, hooking up an IV. She smiled at him.

"Hey, Stiles." she said kindly.

"Hi, Mrs. McCall. How is she?" Stiles asked, putting the bag down.

"She'll be fine. I'm not going to lie though, it was pretty close." Mrs. McCall took Five's pulse.

"I, uh, I brought her some clothes. Well, they're not my clothes, they're Lydia's. Lydia's clothes. I brought her some of Lydia's... clothes. Well, Lydia brought her some of her clothes, I just carried the bag of clothes." he stammered.

"So, I'm guessing these are Lydia's clothes." Mrs. McCall smirked, gesturing to the suitcase. Stiles scratched the back of his head.

"Yeaaah." he sighed, not really knowing what else to say. Mrs. McCall pulled up a chair and tied a rubber band around Five's upper arm, slapped the back of her hand a bit and inserted the IV needle. Five gasped, her eyes fluttered. She coughed weakly.

"Stiles?" she croaked. Stiles felt as if he had been struck by lightning, he tripped over nothing in his effort to get to her and grabbed the counter for support.

"He's right here." murmured Mrs. McCall soothingly. Fives fingers opened and closed as if trying to grab something. "She's asked for you a couple times, but she's pretty out of it." Stiles almost floated over to her. He pulled up a stool and wove his fingers between hers.

"Stiles?" she moaned.

"Yeah, yeah it's me. I'm here." he reassured her, rubbing his thumb lightly across her knuckles.

"Hi," she sighed, it sounded like she wanted to laugh.

"Hi, yourself." he grinned sadly.

"My name is Five, " she turned her wrist a little, as if trying to shake his hand. "I am very glad to have met you."

"The pleasure is all mine, m'lady." said Stiles, softly shaking back.

"You saved me," she rasped, turning her head to look at him. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. "Twice. For that I am very grateful." Stiles shrugged.

"What else was I going to do?"

Five's brow furrowed, as if confused.

"You must forgive me, I did not mean to stain your honor. You have a good heart, I am not accustomed to the kindness of man." she smiled, "No, nor woman either." she nodded at Mrs. McCall, who smiled. "Thank you for your expertise, Lady Healer. And the Druid Male must receive my thanks as well."

"I will pass that along to him." said Mrs. McCall. She got up, Five's nostrils flared.

"Your son will be in need of medical attention, Lady Healer." she whispered "The Druid must examine the young wolf. I fear in my haste I may have scratched him." Mrs. McCall paused.

"I'm sure he'll be fine." she smiled amused, taking out some clothes from the suitcase.

"Healer, do not mistake me. Scratches are laughable on the likes of his kind, however when night falls, so will he. It will become poisonous if left unchecked." Five said seriously. Mrs. McCall looked at her, and nodded.

"My head feels heavy," said Five, blinking confusedly. With her IV hand she pushed herself up. The IV pulled. "What is this contraption?" she muttered, gazing at the clear tubing.

"It's called an IV." said Mrs. McCall, looking pointedly at Stiles, indicating he should avert his eyes. "It's helping with the pain." Five looked intently at it, unable to focus entirely. Mrs. McCall pulled her arm gingerly through the sleeve of a shirt and up over Five's head.

"How is a small metallic stinger easing such pain?" she tried to get up off the table. "What is in this liquid? My veins feel hot."

"Woah now, easy. Lay back down." hushed Mrs McCall, hoisting sweatpants over the girl's hips. Five sat for a moment then slid off the table onto the ground with a soft flump.

"My legs are not cooperating." said Five a little dazed.

"Well, that because they're broken." said Stiles, trying to help her back onto the table. "Oh, alright. Okay, back on the table, there we go. You can't walk yet, you have to stay put."

"Actually, her bones are mended already, but she still shouldn't walk, because they're pretty fragile." Mrs. McCall whispered to Stiles.

"This is very disorienting." Five said, surprised. "What potion is this?"

"Morphine." said Mrs. McCall flatly, attempting to gently push Five into a horizontal position.

"It is very strange." Five mused, looking blankly around. "I can't find my fingers."

"Here they are." said Stiles waving her hand in front of her face, as if for a newborn child.

"You found them!" she smiled happily.

"Yes! I found them! Now why don't you lay down and try to sleep, okay? We don't want you to hurt yourself, do we?"

"No." she mumbled, inspecting her fingers.

"No we don't. Okay. Just lie down." he urged, helping Mrs. McCall. When they finally got her to lay down, she was almost asleep.

"Stiles, please don't leave." her voice broke in panic.

"I'm not leaving, okay?" he breathed, winding his hand in hers again, "I'm staying right here, see? I'm not moving. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?" she whispered, fading into sleep,

"Promise." Before he knew it, Stiles' eyes had filled with tears.

In a white hospital, ages ago, he sat alone in the hall outside his mom's room with his head in his hands. Running footsteps. His father. The Sheriff slowed, seeing his son. Then at a pace that made oceans roar and winds whip, the Sheriff stormed down the hallway. But it was too late.

Stiles could not cry anymore, his eyes were dry, he couldn't swallow, he could barely breathe. He could die in that chair, for the strength it would take to move would rival Hercules'.

Earlier, running footsteps, a loud beeping. "I'm not leaving, okay? I'll be here when you wake up!"

"Somebody get the kid out of here!"

"Mom!"

"You can't be in here, come on now."

"No! Mom! MOM!"

"Somebody GET THE KID OUT OF HERE!"

"MOM!"

Thats when Lydia screamed.


	5. Veleda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five has a visitor.

Five's eyes flew open. She and Stiles looked toward the disruption. Stiles looked at their hands, and then at her, overcome with options in his mental emotional debate.

"Be careful." and she let go. Stiles ran though the door, the deserted lobby and out the front entrance. The wolves, the Argents and Dr. Deaton stood in a line facing Lydia's car. Lydia was in the middle of the open lot looking terrified. With good reason, a pale clawed spidery hand was wrapped around her throat. A woman, a little older than Derek, had her teeth bared and her glinting yellow eyes set on the clinic.

"I have no use for this pathetic mewling excuse for a girl." she sneered, shaking Lydia tauntingly. "Give me the Runt, and I'll be on my way."

"I don't believe you." Derek responded cooly. The woman blinked.

"What have I to gain in lies?" she argued indignantly, her dark hair tossing wildly in the wind.

"Fine, release the girl. And then we'll give you the Runt." Peter called over to her. A few tensed up but it went unnoticed by the woman, who was inspecting Peter's features with confusion.

"Do I know your face, sir?" she asked, gazing intently at him.

"I know yours," he said, crossing his arms "Veleda."

"Peter Hale. Why, I must say there are very few dead men who look as well as you." she smiled, sweetly.

"The girl, Veleda." Derek barked. Veleda cocked her eyebrows mischievously.

"As it would please you." she sighed, removing her claws from Lydia's neck. Lydia stood, stunned for a moment, before walking cautiously away with her head held high. "Then again," Veleda surged forward, wound her fingers in Lydia's hair and held her steady. It one quick motion, the entire line switched from a cordial stand-off into battle stances.

Allison drew her bow, Chris Argent cocked his gun, the wolves morphed and Dr. Deaton... where was Dr. Deaton? Where was Mrs. McCall? Veleda grinned, her teeth glinting "This has been an awfully long day, what with the tracking and the chasing and the killing. It does stimulate one's appetite." she breathed on Lydia's exposed neck. Lydia barely flinched, her lower lip trembling.

"What do you want?" Derek called.

"I want my sister's head on a spit." she snarled, "But I will settle for her worthless form returned to me. She's ours." Veleda pet Lydia's cheek with one long finger. "Do that, and I will go."

"We know he's coming Veleda." Peter declared in a manner that suggested boredom. "And we know he has no plans of leaving when he gets here."

"Why didn't you say so?" she snickered "Pretenses are so dull, are they not? Fine fine, you return her and I'll put in a good word for you. Do not, and I will kill the child, and take the Runt by force."

"Sister." Everyone turned. Five stood in the doorway. It looked like the very weight of the earth was on her shoulders. Her matted hair tumbled around her face, her eyes piercing under her thick brows, she clutched to the frame of the door for support.

"Ah, darling!" Veleda crowed, releasing Lydia. Lydia ran to the line, and stood quivering next to Allison and her father. "What craftmans ship I must say, who put your liver back in?"

Stiles' hands clenched at his side, but knew enough not to interfere. Five stepped forward, everyone exchanged hesitant looks. She passed them slowly, wincing every other step.

"A friend." she rasped, as if the very word would cause harm to Veleda.

"A friend? Come come my dear, these people do not care for you. Not like I." she threw out her arms for embrace, but Five stopped short, just out of reach. A cold rage flashed in Velda's eyes.

"Why do you come here?" Five asked icily.

"Insolence does not become you, sister."

"Nay, nor shrewishness in you." Smack. Five's head jerked to the side and she fell to the ground feebly. Peter grabbed Derek and Scott grabbed Stiles, for both had lunged to action. Veleda looked down on Five simply. Five wiped the blood from the corner of her lip with the back of her hand. Veleda kicked Five in the stomach, who coughed and spit.

"Oh Five, your way with words causes me such pride." She sang, taking the front of Five's shirt in her fist and hoisted her off the ground so her toes barely touched the concrete.

"Why have you come?" Five gurgled around Veleda's grip.

"Did you learn nothing, Sister? You. I have nothing but love in my heart for you." she crooned.

"What place do I want in a heart that's black." Five said. "I have chosen my place."

"You have no power to chose such a place." hissed Veleda. "You will come home."

"No."

"You will." Veleda grinned. "It has been told, and so you shall."

Five didn't speak, her mouth clamped shut.

"You will come home. You will prepare to fight." Veleda sneered, "And you will drink the blood of your new found friends for their troubles." Suddenly, she seemed very young, sad and sweet. She set Five down on her feet, gently, grasping her hands. "Why do you hurt me so? Have I not been all that I am?" Veleda whispered, cupping Five's face kindly. "These people will never accept you, you have to come home. Please sister, abandon this foolish venture. The wolf and his comrades will fall and this will be ours, all of it!" Veleda hugged her sister, tears in her eyes, "Come home, please."

"I can't." Five whispered, gently easing out of the embrace.

"Why? What confidences have these monsters given you? They're lies, sister, lies!" Veleda shrieked, shaking Five earnestly. She held Five's hand and placed it on her own cheek, leaning into it. "Master misses you, do you hear me? Darling, Renu misses you."

"He does?" Five breathed. Her back going rigid. Everyone could see it, there was an immediate change in Five, as if a little of her pain, and the weight she was carrying had been lifted. The balance of this battle had shifted, Veleda brought kryptonite. Stiles felt himself step forward involuntarily. What was he going to do? Cover her ears?

"Terribly." Veleda nodded. "He pines for his little one, with oaths that would rattle the stars. 'Where is my dearest flower?' he says 'Why does she offer such cruelty?'"

"He said that?" Five whispered sadly. Stiles felt his palms itch, someone had better do something soon. His something wasn't so much as a something but an inability to do nothing, and he had a nasty feeling that he couldn't stay still much longer.

"Yes, and more." Veleda, wrapping her arms protectively around Five. Five chocked back a sob, sinking into the embrace. Over her shoulder, Veleda leered at the group, her eyes sparkling with malice.

"Five!" shouted Stiles, launching himself out of the line. Scott and Isaac held onto his shirt, but he struggled. "S-she's lying! Five, listen to me!" Five stumbled out of her sister's grasp, her eyes closed, looking as if she was having difficulty getting breath into her lungs. Veleda looked from Five to Stiles and back again, then a big toothy grin stretched across her face.

"Oh, but this is delicious." she snickered. "What have you done now, sister?" She giggled manically, clutching her stomach. Five stood back, her fists balled at her side. "What sort of whiskered harlot allows herself to be bound to a human?" Veleda roared with laughter, her voice echoing in the atmosphere. "And not just any human, but that?" She cackled leaning against Lydia's car for support.

"I could not expect you to understand, Veleda." Five snapped. "You, who's idea of claim lies in fornication with a man who would eat the children you bear, and laugh as he dined. A whiskered harlot indeed, you disgust me."

Veleda screamed, her teeth elongating, her back hunching, her nose wrinkling, she whipped through the air, throwing Five backwards into the pavement. An arrow sank into Veleda's shoulder, gunfire, and everyone launched into action. In the chaos - Veleda held Five aloft by the neck.

"Be still or she dies!" she snarled. They all froze, breathing heavily. She chuckled. "How pathetic," she said, looking at each of them in turn. "you and your bleeding hearts." She squeezed Five's throat. Stiles and Derek tensed, Veleda giggled.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she seemed completely at ease, unperturbed by the blatant hostility aimed at her.

"She must have really made an impression on you Derek, for your bond to have lasted this long. But you," she turned to look at Stiles, burning with curiosity, "Twenty-Four hours and you can't stop thinking about her can you? Oh yes, you are spell bound. I can see it. So what she do?" she leered, "Was it a kiss?" Derek's eyes darted to Stiles and then back, his fists clenching and unclenching "Or something more. I bet it was, look at your blush! Did she scream? Did she beg? Did she cry out your name when you took her virgin-" Five spat, her bloody saliva smacking across Veleda's face. Veleda looked livid, she brought Five closer until they were almost nose to nose.

"You dishonor yourself, Veleda." Five rasped, "I do not need such acts to make people love me."

"You -"

Veleda gasped, she went rigid, her eyes burned and voices from unknown places moved with her mouth.

"I will come to your demise

A white cloth is my disguise

I lived my life between the wilds

Neither earth nor sky would call me child

The birds were my companions

The wind and rain my champions

Daily I grew in power and fixture

Till snatched out of time by the trickster."

"My dear, it is intensely annoying to have to dissect your words, when I wish to disembowel you." she sighed, cutting a small slice at the base of Five's throat.

"Too bad," hissed a voice. Dr. Deaton's hands grasped Veleda's, jerking them around her back, while Mrs. McCall draped a cloth coated in a thick powder over her face. "You would have heard us coming." Veleda shrieked and fell to her knees, and then to her side unconscious.

"Mistletoe." muttered Peter. "That was the riddle. The Norse myth of mistletoe."

Five, who had been dropped, now lay in a heap on the blacktop. Stiles dropped to his knees beside her, attempting unsuccessfully to lift her. She smiled softly and after a moment, used him to help herself to her feet.

"Whoo." said Mrs. McCall, a little shellshocked. "Good, good work everyone." she smacked her lips, "Now what do we do?"

"We take her inside. Scott, Isaac, if you could help me?"

The boys took a couple deep breaths to clear their heads of the adrenaline, and then, with looks of revulsion, heaved the unconscious Veleda through the door. Derek was gazing blankly and Stiles and Five, a far off look in his eyes. Stiles, who only had eyes for Five did not see. Derek rushed forward and scooped Five into his arms, glaring at Stiles over her head. Stiles shot him an exasperated look.

"I can walk." she protested weakly. Derek smirked down at her, "I'll carry you." If she wasn't so tired, Five would have pouted. Dr. Deaton chatted absently, asking Derek to place her back on the operation table and how many injuries she probably just reopened. Peter and Cora followed. The Argents and Lydia were already around back, digging in their car for some sort of restraints that would probably hold Veleda. Stiles stood alone in the lot. That is, until Mrs. McCall gripped his shoulder kindly.

"She's very pretty." she said innocently.

"She's a cat, Mrs. McCall." Stiles sighed, crossing him arms.

"Perhaps," she mused, "but my son is a dog, respectively, and that didn't seem to stop Allison." She smiled kindly at him, and walked to the front entrance, leaving Stiles with his very confused thoughts.

"Oh by the way, I called your father." she called over his shoulder. "He'll be here soon."

"She could stay with us," Allison offered, glancing cautiously at her father. "We have a guest room and she would be very safe."

With Five resting in the back and Veleda effectively retrained and in Dr. Deaton's office, the topic of the visitor's lodging had come up.

"Yes, but would she feel safe?" Peter objected, "Your entire family are supernatural hunters, you've got weapons in your front parlor that would take down the Hulk, let alone a kitten. We don't need her skirting off in the middle of the night and getting herself killed."

"She'll stay with us." Derek decided.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Dr. Deaton interjected. Derek looked at him ferociously.

"Derek, we need you sharp." Chris Argent broke in just as Cora said "She's a distraction."

"She could stay with us." Mrs. McCall put in, but Isaac shook his head.

"Scott is the only Alpha for miles, a True Alpha. Put them together would be like a putting a spotlight on our location." Isaac cautioned.

"Plus, you know, Dad." Scott grunted. "The FBI shouldn't come across a were-wolf and a cat-walker in California."

"Yeah, lets not do that." Peter agreed.

"Lydia?" Dr. Deaton asked politely. Everyone turned, Lydia looked a little dazed, she sat down in a chair and had yet to speak or move at all. She jerked out of her trance.

"I'd rather not." she squeaked. She cleared her throat, regaining some composure. "What will I do if they come? Scream?" she laughed nervously.

They looked at each other, at a loss. Stiles cleared his throat, but before he could speak there was a distraction.

"Then I guess it's settled." everyone turned to look at the door. Sheriff Stilinski, leaning casually against the frame, looked around the room expectantly. "Who's my new house guest?"


	6. Chapter 6: Melissa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five bunks up with the Stilinskis, but it will be a night of fear for both of them.

It was an awkward ride home. After several hours at the clinic, everyone departed with vague knowledge of a plan and their duties in said plan. The Argents would do their research on Cat-Walkers, find out everything they could. The Hales would prepare and plan for battle, with this knowledge. Lydia decided her strength would best be used helping Derek. Scott's group (not quite pack but ...) of Isaac, Ethan, and Aiden would set up a perimeter as well as request aide from Deucalion. The Stilinskis would be in charge of keeping Five out of trouble for now.

They drove. They didn't seem to want to look at each other for fear of catching the other's eye. It was raining so all they had to listen to on the radio was static. In the back, Five winced as they went over a bump in the road.

"Sorry." said the Sheriff into the rearview mirror. Five waved her hand dismissively.

"I know you are being careful, and so I thank you." she muttered, drowsy from the painkillers.

"Maybe you should try going slower, dad." said Stiles, not looking away from the road.

"I'm going 20 miles per hour Stiles, any slower and we might not get home until morning." said Sheriff Stilinski testily.

"I know I'm just saying-"

"Stiles, please." he sighed, looking over at his son. "I'm going slow, avoiding pot holes, bumps, dark streets and deserted streets. It's fine."

The silence stretched on. And on. And on. Stiles went to play with the radio, but his dad smacked his hand away.

"How're you doing back there?" the Sheriff said, glancing over his shoulder.

"As good as can be expected." Five smiled kindly.

"Well, we're almost there," the Sheriff reassured. He paused, "Have you had anything to eat today?"

"I fear I would not fare well with a meal, Sheriff," she patted her tummy soothingly "but thank you for asking."

"I would feel better if you had something in your stomach." he insisted, as he pulled into his driveway. "We got crackers, tea, maybe a little soup … um . . . milk?" he suggested shrugging, looking back at her, a little worried he had offended her.

There was a beat. Five bit her lip, and started to giggle, she covered her mouth to stifle it, but it grew until it was uncontrollable. The Sheriff smiled one of his rare smiles and Stiles found himself smiling too. When she caught her breath, she muttered a few 'ow's to herself. "Tea," she beamed "would be lovely."

They helped her out of the car.

It took several minutes to get to the door. What little energy Five had was spent in the confrontation with her sister. It took another five minutes just to get into the kitchen.

"I would offer you my bed," sighed the Sheriff, "but it's upstairs. And I don't think we're quite ready to tackle that yet." He smiled kindly at her. She looked concerned.

"Please," she said tiredly "I do not wish to cause you any trouble-"

"No trouble at all," said the Sheriff hurriedly, "how does the couch sound? I doesn't pull out but it's still pretty big."

"Thank you for your kindness," she whispered as they entered the living room. They lowered her onto the cushions, careful not to upset her stitches.

"I'll get you some blankets." said Sheriff Stilinski, and he left. Stiles stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do.

"I'll put the water on, for some tea." he said, putting his hands into his pockets and heading toward the kitchen.

"Stiles!" she rasped. He stopped in the doorway and she flushed crimson. "Thank you, truly. For everything." She looked down at her hands.

"No problem" he nodded, his voice a pitch higher than average.

In the kitchen, Stiles stood watching the kettle waiting for the water to heat. He smiled to himself for no particular reason, picking out a mug with extra care. The Sheriff returned with a big soft duvet and several pillows Stiles didn't even knew they owned. He heard their voices drift through the house.

"So you're a cat?" asked the Sheriff bluntly. Stiles mentally smacked himself in the forehead.

"Only sometimes." Five said back kindly. Stiles stared at the kettle, focusing all his attention on their conversation.

"How does that work?" his dad asked with all the subtly of a hammer.

"Well," she said softly "sometimes all I have to do is decide to change. Sometimes its a little harder, sometimes its a little easier. Sometimes I can not help but to be a cat. And sometimes" she paused, "sometimes it is just better to be a cat."

She sounded sad, Stiles wondered what she meant by that. Would it be weird to ask her?

The kettle whistled so high and so loud that he nearly jumped out of his skin. He poured water into the mug and then paused. Grabbing the tea box, he went to the living room.

"Hey" he murmured kindly. Five smiled at him. The sheriff looked between them, hiding amusement. Stiles shook the box at her.

"It's a sample pack, any particular kind you like?"

"Oh," she looked surprised, "Um, Earl Grey, perhaps?"

"Can do." and he left to prepare it. He felt like he needed to catch his breath. Was he allergic to cats? That didn't seem to be it, he shook the feeling off.

"So, Five, how did you come by Beacon Hills?" said the Sheriff, if only to break the silence. However, silence is what he met. After a long moment, Five giggled.

"Well, I walked mostly." Stiles stifled a grin, his dad chuckled.

"No I meant, what business do you have here?" Stiles felt the warmth leave the room, the sheriff must have felt it too because he tried to flesh out his meaning further. "I assume it's business. Supernatural business. Did you just drop by?"

"I suppose I came in a mixture of both. The spontaneous business of comradeship, as it were." Five said simply. More silence. It stretched on and no one knew how to fill it. "Although," Five said, suddenly cheerful, "it seems I took the scenic route, as it took me a whole six days to get here!" she laughed. The Sheriff laughed with her.

"Where did you start?" he asked.

"Vancouver."

"Canada?!" the Sheriff laughed heartily.

"I think next time I will consider traveling by train." she joked.

Stiles brought in the tea, smiling as well. He could see it, Five had completely won his dad over.

"Careful it's hot." he said, handing her the mug.

"I thank you very much, Stiles" she grinned, cradling the hot beverage in her hands.

"Well, I have to go back to the office." said the sheriff, clasping his hands together. He stood, "Mrs. McCall said she'd stop by after work to look at your stitches, and that Vet said he might as well." he patted Five fatherly on the shoulder, "I think you're in good hands."

"I agree, Sheriff." she smiled. He looked thoughtfully at her before heading to the front door.

"I'll be home around 8ish, phone me if you need anything." he called, putting on his jacket.

"Will do, drive safe Dad." Stiles replied.

"I will." They listened to the door close and the Police cruiser disappear down the street. Now what?

"How are you feeling?" he asked just as she said "How much does your father know?"

Five smiled and brought her mug to her lips, "Better, thank you. And yourself? I imagine I gave you quite a scare." She sipped the tea and observed him over the rim. Stiles shrugged.

"I'm fine. My dad knows enough, and what he doesn't he learns on the go."

"He's a very kind man." Five said thoughtfully, almost her herself. "As are you." she beamed at him, and suddenly the room felt very warm. He played with the hem of his shirt nervously and was momentarily confused because his shirt had grown a couple sizes. Oh wait, it was Jackson's. He suddenly felt exhausted, remembering just how long of a day it was.

"You know what?" he announced, "Not to be a rude host or anything but I'm really in need of a shower and some new clothes."

"Please, do not hesitate on my account." Five beseeched.

"Okay then. Here is the remote for the TV," he said, handing it to her, "Give a call if you need anything. I'll be back in like 10 minutes."

"Excellent."

Stiles stood awkwardly in the door frame for a moment before dashing up the stairs to his room. He grabbed some clothes out of his closet and bolted clumsily into the bathroom. After he got into the shower he had to remind himself that there was an injured girl downstairs. It was embarrassing but he really took a long time in the shower. Scott used to tease him, saying he took as much time as a teenage girl. He couldn't help it, he just got lost in the warmth of the water. It soothed the knots in his back and unmatted his hair. Pulling himself together, he scrubbed and washed thoroughly before turning the heavenly water off. He patted himself down with a towel, put on fresh clothes and started down the stairs, drying his hair as he went.

He heard laugher from the living room. He paused halfway down the steps, Five and Mrs. McCall were talking. Since when did Mrs. McCall have a key?

"Honestly he must have thought me a fool, I gave him the blankest of stares!" Five giggled warmly "I thought to myself, what is a Tee-Vee, and then he hands me this little button box! What on earth was I to do with this, I thought." Mrs. McCall laughed even harder. "So I put it down, and low-and-behold, a miniature, virtual theater springs to life across the room! What magic, I thought! The marvel of the theater in the convenience of a home! And look! I can control the amount of sound that comes out!"

Stiles heard the TV's volume go up and down. He grinned, covering his mouth.

"Did you know you can change channels too?" asked Mrs. McCall.

"Change channels?" Five pondered aloud, unsure of what the words meant.

"Here, watch." Stiles heard a faint click, and then the opening of another show. Five gasped, gleefully.

"How utterly fascinating!" Stiles heard more clicking as Five experimented with her new toy.

"Ok, ok. Let me see these bandages." said Mrs. McCall, fighting giggles herself. Stiles froze, willing his ears to pick up every sound. Mrs. McCall whistled.

"You heal almost as fast as my son." Mrs. McCall continued to undress her wounds, clean them and reseal them. Stiles waited for someone to say something.

"So, how'd this happen?" Mrs. McCall asked after a while.

"It was a combination of slowness on my part and misplaced love on my sister's. My Pride does not approve of the lifestyle I've chosen." Five said quietly.

"You sister did this to you?" Mrs. McCall muttered angrily. "Before I shot her up with mistletoe?"

"My sister loves me dearly," Five said softly, "and the kind of deep pain she must be feeling cannot be held inside, for it is too great to bear. I do not blame her."

"Is the lifestyle you've chosen the right one for you?"

"Yes." she breathed

"Then screw 'em." she barked, Stiles heard her sit on the couch next to Five, "I got pregnant at 17. I came home with the news and my parents told me in no uncertain terms I was not allowed back until I got rid of my baby. That wasn't going to happen. My boyfriend and I got married, I went to night school to become a nurse, he became a cop and we worked it out. Because thats what you do when life hands you lemons."

"What do you do when life hands you lemons?" Five asked confusedly. Mrs. McCall laughed.

"You throw it right back in life's face and demand chocolate!" They chuckled together.

"Alright, it looks like you're good to go, kid!" Mrs. McCall chimed, "Well not good to go, no, I wouldn't suggest moving much for like, a week, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll come back tomorrow morning to change your bandages, and maybe if you're up to it, a bath." she sighed, "Oh, lets see, what else? Oh! I brought you a cane and crutches so you can get to and from the bathroom and stuff with out asking for help from the boys."

"I very much appreciate it, thank you again Lady Healer."

"Please, call me Melissa."

"Very well... Miss... Melissa." Mrs. McCall chuckled to herself as she gathered up her things.

"Do you want me to reheat that tea for you?" she asked.

"Oh no, thank you anyway, it is just the right temperature."

"Okay, Stiles has my number, but just incase I left in on that card there. Call me if you need anything."

"I shall – Oh! Miss Melissa, is your son alright? Did I indeed scratch him?" Five asked, suddenly worried.

"He's fine, Dr. Deaton cleaned it with stuff." Mrs McCall shrugged.

"Please pass along my sincerest apologies, let him know it was not intentional."

"Honestly, I think he's more embarrassed that you scratched him than anything else but I'll give him the message anyway. I'll just let myself-AHH!"

"AHH!"

"STILES!" Mrs McCall shrieked. She had just caught sight of him. He had unconsciously been inching his way down the stairs the entire time until the tip of his nose was centimeters away from the door. Mrs. McCall clutched her heart staring accusingly at him.

"Sorry." he supplied, still a little startled.

"I trust you heard all that." she huffed, exasperated.

"I'll call if we need anything." he gave her the thumbs up. She rolled her eyes and headed for the door.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning." she reaffirmed over her shoulder "Bye."

"Farewell." Five called to her. Mrs McCall drove away just as it stopped raining. Five sniffed the air, pleased. "I always loved the smell after rain." she sighed, smiling at him. She already looked healthier, no where near well but there was faint color in her cheeks and some light in her eyes. Stiles grinned toothily.

"You know," he began, "if you don't know what something is or what a word means, all you have to do is ask." Five blushed ferociously.

"How long have you been out there?" she gasped.

"I came in halfway through your TV story." he shrugged. She looked relieved, but still a little embarrassed.

"I have spent my whole life out of the modern world, I forget about the delightful mechanisms that the human race has invented." she paused, thinking. "When I spent my time with Hales, they had embraced the modern world. Though they did not have such a thing as this Tee Vee." she smirked. "They would take me to the cinema. Derek was partial to what he called classic monster movies. The irony. Dracula, Frankenstein, the the Mummy. To think, visual storytelling, with actors and music, all in a little black box." She yawned.

"Tired?" Stiles asked. Five nodded.

"Miss Melissa gave me something to help me sleep." she slurred, rubbing her eyes.

"Well, I'll just take that," Stiles said, taking her tea mug, "and set it here." and he placed it on the coffee table. "And I'll turn off the lights and let you sleep." Five's eyes shot open, her nostrils flared.

"You'll be here when I wake up right?" she asked, suddenly panicked. He rushed to her side and sat next to her on the floor.

"I'll be just a shout away." he smiled reassuringly at her. "How about I stay here until you fall asleep?" She nodded, softly, closing her eyes. Like a small child. Her hand reached out as if asking to hold his, but she seemed to think better of it. Stiles slowly put her hand in his and they interlocked their fingers loosely.

Time passed and she dozed off, and before he knew it, so did Stiles. He drifted in and out of sleep. He heard his father come home but he was too tired to open his eyes. The Sheriff sighed and Stiles felt a blanket being laid upon him. He wanted to thank him but all he could manage was a grunt of contentedness.

"Hey Stiles," the Sheriff whispered.

Stiles 'Hmm'ed

"I'm pulling an all nighter at the office."

'Mhmm'

"I'll call in the morning to check up on you. Go to school, okay?"

'Mkay'

"Okay, go back to sleep"

'Mkay. Nrive safe Mad'

"Sweet Dreams, bud"

He fell back into a deep and comfortable sleep, which is saying something as he was currently on the hard floor using the balled up towel from earlier as a pillow. He dreamed about a bright white room with freshly mowed grass for a floor and it was raining everywhere except for the spot he was standing in. He walked through the grass until he felt the need to turn back. He glanced behind his shoulder and saw a door. The door was ancient and wooden, with a big brass handle and a knocker in the shape of an ivy leaf. It was powerful and imposing and he examined it curiously. After a mental debate, he rapped the knocker twice. It opened lightening fast and banged loudly against a non existent wall. Stiles backed away quickly. It was just a doorway. The grass continued, and the rain, and the light. But there was something, something not right.

"Come in." said a thousand whispering voices.

"come in. come in. come in."

Stiles wheeled around, looking for the source of the voices. They came from no where. But started to sing:

The more that there is,

The less that you see.

Squint all you wish

it's fine by me.

"Stop it." barked Stiles, "Thats enough."

Cannot be seen, cannot be felt,

cannot be heard, or even smelt.

He covered his ears and slowly sank to the ground. "Stop! Stop it!"

I lie behind the stars and dwell beneath the hills.

And in the end my friend, you see

I'm. All. You. Kill.

Stiles awoke to the sound of screams. He leapt to his feet, adrenaline pumping through his veins, looking fervently about for any sign of threat. But it was Five. Five was screaming in her sleep, trashing about, clawing at her chest. She screamed and screamed, Stiles grabbed her wrists in an attempt to prevent any further attacks on herself.

"NO! PLEASE!" She shrieked.

"Five! FIVE! Wake up, it's okay! Five, you're okay, you're dreaming!" Her eyes flew open. She whipped around taking in her surroundings, breathing heavily. Her whole body was shaking, she was pale as a sheet and she looked absolutely terrified.

"S-St-Stiles?" she breathed, scanning him as if to make sure he was real.

"I'm here, right here, see? It was just a dream." he reassured her. He felt like he should hug her or something, but wasn't sure what to do. So he settled with holding her hand between both of his. She looked at their hands for a moment and then brought them up to her cheek where she leaned into them, cautiously blocking her face from view. She sighed shakily in relief.

"I am sorry I woke you." she rasped, shaking her head.

"No, thats okay. Are you alright?" he asked. He got the feeling she wasn't looking at him on purpose. Thats when he felt it, a single tear fall onto his knuckle. He immediately and instinctively moved close to her. He couldn't not. He had to ease her pain. He sat with her on the couch, wrapped the arm that wasn't held by her around her shoulders and rested his chin on the crown of her head. She was unaccustomed to the touch but slowly leaned into him and let silent tears fall from her eyes. He pinched his eyes closed. He felt as if there was a balloon filled with wet and heavy clay inside his chest. It was a dull hollow pain that made it hard to swallow or breath.

"What was your dream about?" he asked softly. She shook her head, unable to talk about it. They stayed like that for a long time. After a while, they leaned slowly into the couch, both too sleepy to move.

"Stiles?" she whispered

"Mhmm?" he said.

"You know what I am right? Dr. Deaton has confided you?" she asked tensely, bracing herself.

"Mhmm. Little hard to miss there, Five."

"No, I mean, other facts... for example, my Alpha... and the … habits of my people." She was frozen in place, terrified of the answer. How does he reply to that? Nonchalantly? 'Yeah, what evs'. Sappy? 'I'll accept you no matter what'.

"Mhmm" he said quietly. They sat in silence. She seemed to take the fact that he wasn't running and screaming to heart and relaxed a bit. Almost asleep, a question popped into his head. "Hey, Five? What are full Cat Walkers like?"

She didn't answer for a long time, Stiles had almost thought she had fallen back asleep. At some point they had both laid down on the couch, her head resting against Stiles' chest. At the brink of dreams, she spoke. Her voice seem old, and it soothed and chilled him simultaneously.

"Do you ever wonder why horror movie monsters are so scary, Stiles?" she whispered softly, "They all look the same if you really truly see them. Ghosts, Ghouls, Vampires, Shape-shifters, Creatures and Zombies. They will look human. They are almost human. But they are not. We are not." she hissed icily. Her hand gripped his weakly, as if fighting more tears. "What is it that frights you all so? The pale cold skin, the long hard face? The dark, sunken eyes hollowed under a thick brow? The sharpened teeth, the claws? The strength, the speed? The elegance and charm? Yes, all of these things. But above all, above all is that final glint from inside. A predatorial prowess that cannot be seen." Her voice got quieter, on the verge of sleep.

"The human mind, Stiles, is a fascinating thing. The fear of heights should you fall, the fear of bites should you bleed, the fear of closed spaces should your breath be stolen from your body. The fear of the dark should the night come and the dawn should not. All stemming from a time when your kind were still dragging knuckles on the ground, burning your home and precious resources for light. So I ask you ... What made you fear the dark? What happened to the creature so terrifying, so dark and so cruel that hundreds of thousands of years later, you're still afraid? And what did that creature do, so long ago, that was so awful that a fraction of that fear lived on deep down in the pit of the developing brain for this long? What ever happened to the being that went bump in the night?"

As her first deep breath of sleep came and went, Stiles remembered the song from his own dream. And he remembered the voices and how much they sounded like when Five made a prophecy.

With a sudden realization, he knew it was a riddle.

The more that there is,

The less that you see.

Squint all you wish

it's fine by me.

Cannot be seen, cannot be felt,

cannot be heard, or even smelt.

I lie behind the stars and dwell beneath the hills.

And in the end my friend, you see

I'm. All. You. Kill.

Darkness. Behind the open door was darkness.


	7. Chapter 7: Triquetra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has to go to school, and Five and Chris Argent have a heart to heart

Stiles could hear birds. 

He woke up slowly, comfortably, the sunlight streaming in through the window. The steady soft breathing of Five, her head leaning on one shoulder and her lightly closed fist resting on the other. He didn't open his eyes just yet, afraid it would be a dream. He just lied there and felt her breathing against him, deeply asleep. 

They stayed like that until Stiles realized that his arm, which was pinned beneath them, was prickling. It was getting painful. He shifted his weight slightly, and she responded, stirring a little before returning to her doze. His arm freed, he gently wrapped it around her shoulders and she sank farther into him. As funny as it seems, Stiles could have sworn she was purring. 

Opening his eyes, he gazed at her. She looked so helpless, her wild hair splayed across the the blankets, her ivory skin softly glowing in the golden sun. She wasn't quite the image of beauty, she looked rather comical, but in an endearing way. Her nose twitched and she slept with her mouth open. Stiles smiled. He couldn't help himself. He could get used to this feeling. He never had had someone fall asleep with him. Not like this anyway. Cautiously, holding his breath, he brushed her hair out of her face. She had a little mole above her right eyebrow he hadn't noticed before. Her eyelids were a faint lavender color, and her long thick brown lashes fluttered lightly as she dreamed. Her lips were pink, a soft faint pink like the hidden stones he and his mom would find in rivers on his way home from school. The same color was slowly returning to her arched cheekbones as a sign of her improved health. He felt like he could lie there all day and memorize her face. 

But then the phone rang. Five jumped, startled out of her deep sleep. She blinked several times, very confused, and looked curiously at him. 

Stiles chuckled, still very tired. "Its just the phone." He yawned. 

"Phone?" She said, her voice raspy from lack of use. 

Stiles rolled over, landing on the hardwood floor with a groan. Never mind, he was never sleeping on the couch again. It was a horrible idea. He was so stiff that it took considerable effort to heave himself off the floor and over to the phone on the wall. 

"Hello." He grunted. 

"Stiles?" It was his dad, and he sounded mad. "Why are you home?" 

Stiles yawned again, "What time is it?" He asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

"You've got 5 minutes before your first class begins." said the Sheriff unhappily. 

"Okay," sighed Stiles, "I'll miss first period, but I'll make it to second, sound good?" 

"Fine, Stiles - but you can't have any more absences!" the sheriff huffed exasperatedly. 

"Alright alright, I'll throw on some clothes and get going." Stiles groaned. "Why didn't you call my cell phone if you thought I was at school?" 

"I was checking up on Five, since I assumed she'd be alone all day." Sheriff Stilinski snapped. 

That woke Stiles up. Five was going to be alone. All day. 

"Dad I can't -" he paused looking over his shoulder. Five was lying down, but she wasn't relaxed. Stiles could tell she was trying not to look like she was listening. He started walking away, talking very quietly "I can't leave her alone all day." He whispered. "What if ...” He couldn't tell his dad that last time he left her alone to go to school her crazed sister went into his room and butchered her, especially because his father didn't exactly know Five had spent the night before. “... something happens?" 

"Mrs. McCall says she's got it covered and will be coming over in 15 minutes with backup. Which is what I called to tell Five." He sassed. 

"Dad, you know she has no idea what a phone is right?" Stiles sighed. 

"What, really?" He asked incredulously. Stiles shrugged 

"Sheltered childhood." He supplied. Like really sheltered. 

"Okay, well - get to school please." 

"Can I at least wait until Mrs. McCall gets here?" 

"Will you still make it to second period on time?" 

"I should be able to." 

"Fine. See you at dinner. I'll be by around lunch to check up on your girlfriend, alright?" 

"Dad, she's not- she's not my girlfriend." Stiles hissed quietly into the receiver, blushing. 

"Yeah, sure. Talk to you later, bud. Love you." 

"Love you too" 

He hung up and stared at the phone. Girlfriend? He was already in love. He loved Lydia. He had loved her for god knows how long. And something had just started happening between them. He didn't know exactly what was going on between them, definitely mixed signals for one thing. 

But Five. 

He didn't even know. Five was different. He had only met her two days ago, and didn't even know until yesterday she was human. But every time he thought about her ... It was almost like something had fashioned a violin out of his heart strings and when ever she crossed his mind, it would play music that would warm him up like hot apple cider on a cold autumn day. 

Oh my God, apple cider?! He had to stop watching late night soap operas... 

Stiles walked back into the living room. Five moved over, as if assuming he was going to come back under the blankets with her. 

If he was told that he would burn in the deepest circle of hell for all eternity if he got back into that couch with her, he would gladly do it. For several moments he actually considered it. But a different type of hell was waiting for him, high school. And the guilt he would feel over disappointing his dad would burn much hotter than any hell could. 

"I have to go to school, Five." He said sadly. Five looked up at him, her eyes deliberately blank. 

"Alright," she smiled unconvincingly. "I will be here when you return." 

He nodded, unsure of what to say. He walked upstairs, found some clean clothes, brushed his teeth, combed his hair and was back before 5 minutes had passed. So he put on the kettle and some morning mindless cartoons. 

It was a comfortable silence, Stiles buzzed around the house, collecting books and papers he needed for class and Five hummed to herself, switching between watching him and the TV. Stiles made her a cup of hot tea and she thanked him with a big cheerful grin. 

He could hear the orchestra in his heart then, wow. 

There was a knock on the door and it opened before Stiles could answer it. Mrs. McCall entered, in her scrubs and loose ponytail putting the keys away into her purse. She carried a large bag with her. 

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?" She asked accusatively. 

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" He sassed back. She raised her eyebrow mom-ishly at him.

"Sorry." He muttered. 

She set down her bag on the kitchen counter and started unpacking. Lots and lots of medical supplies. Very medically looking medical supplies. 

"What's uh- what's that for?" He asked, fearing the answer as Mrs. McCall pulled out surgical knives. 

"Last night, Fives wounds had already started to heal over her stitches less than 3 hours after they were put in." she said mechanically, placing down a syringe. "That was 10 hours ago." 

"Ah." He said, gulping. He was not emotionally prepared for a repeat of yesterday's proceedings. There was another knock of the door. 

"That will be Dr. Deaton." She said absently, filling the syringe. Stiles had no distinct memory of Dr. Deaton out of his office building. He crossed to the front door hesitantly, not sure what to expect. He opened it slowly, peeking around the door. 

"Mr. Stilinski, I would have thought you'd be at school by now." The Doctor stated plainly. 

"Yeah, well life's all about those little surprises, ain't it doc?" Stiles quipped. 

Dr. Deaton smirked to himself, "Might I come in?" He asked. 

"Uh, yeah totally." Stiles rushed, opening the door wider. Dr. Deaton didn't carry anything but an old carpet bag. It was embroidered with the most beautiful and ancient Celtic designs. The bag was dusty and holed and the colors had faded in some places. Behind him, another car turned into the drive way. The door opened and out came Chris Argent. Dr. Deaton and Stiles appraised him with cool apprehension. Argent sauntered up the gravel with a bag of his own. 

"Mr. Argent. What are you doing here?" Dr. Deaton asked with passive aggression. 

"We're preparing for war right?" He said, clapping the doctor on the arm. "That's my specialty." He pushed past them both, into the Stilinski house. Stiles and Dr. Deaton glanced at each other, sharing a thought. The Argents played by a different set of rules. They came to a silent agreement, 'Keep an eye on Chris Argent'. 

When everyone was inside, Stiles checked his phone. Okay he had exactly 15 minutes before he absolutely had to leave to catch 2nd period. The adults had taken over the kitchen table. Mrs. McCall was still unloading medical supplies, Mr. Argent was unloading maps, guns and some very dusty files full of yellowed musty papers, and Dr. Deaton was unloading corked glass vials, cloth drawstring pouches, dried plants, and big leather bound books. He went to pick up one of the files, but Mr. Argent swatted his hand away, glaring patronizingly at him. Stiles frowned and put his hands in his pockets. He felt out of place in his own home. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Five on the couch, looking intently at the three adults. Her face was blank and Stiles was reminded exactly how sick she was. When she smiled, it was easy to look past it but now, when there was nothing but focus on her face she looked ghostly. Deep pink and purple grooves had settled under her eyes, faint yellowing bruises stained her jaw and exposed skin, her split lip was set in a hard line and her open wounds with crisscrossed thread and the stretched icily translucent skin that stitched it together, spiraling up her arms and throat. She caught sight of him and smiled warmly, the visual brutality of her injuries lessening considerably. He felt his stomach churn, how could anyone do this to her? 

"I'm ready when you are, Dr. Deaton." Mrs. McCall said, unraveling some gauze. 

"How long is this going take?" Mr. Argent asked, cleaning a knife. 

"As long as it needs to take, Mr. Argent" Dr. Deaton sighed. Mr. Argent grunted. 

"I need to question her when you're done." 

"I'm afraid that's out of the question, she needs to rest after that." Dr. Deaton said simply. 

"Well, I'll just have to do it before hand then." Argent shrugged and started towards the living room. Stiles went to stop him unconsciously, but was beaten to the punch by Mrs. McCall. She grabbed his arm with surprising strength. 

"I'm afraid that that's also out of the question. She's very weak. Perhaps tomorrow-" Dr. Deaton was cut off, Mr. Argent spoke over him aggressively. 

"This needs to happen now, as soon as possible. They could be on their way." 

"How would she know if they were? She does not have the answers you need, Mr. Argent." Dr. Deaton said, picking up a vile and examining it. 

"She knows something, otherwise she wouldn't be here. Now or later - it's your choice, but I have to question her before I leave." The hunter stared Dr. Deaton down. The doctor barely glanced at him, comparing vials and flipping through pages in his book. 

"Very well, go on in - but keep it short, she'll need a lot of strength today." Dr. Deaton said, almost to himself. Mr. Argent went to enter the living room but Mrs. McCall doubled her grip on his arm. 

"Try to remember that there's a scared teenage girl in there who's all alone in the world." She hushed icily, her eyes boring into his. Mr. Argent leaned in closer to her. 

"Try to remember that that thing in there is an unpredictable man-eating monster with a pretty face and nothing to lose." He hissed, and stored his knife in the sheath on his belt. "Whatever she is, she's not your son. So don't confuse the two." He shrugged her off and went into the living room. 

Stiles watched tensely. The adults returned to their work, glancing occasionally at each other. Stiles checked his watch. 5 minutes to go. He went over to Mrs. McCall. "Can I talk to you for a second?" He asked her, jerking his head towards the hallway, his eyes urgent. 

"Yeah, sure." She said, picking up quickly. She followed him to the end of the hall and out into the garage. 

"How long are you going to be here?" He asked carefully. 

"About another hour and then I have to go to work." She said crossing her arms, almost sensing what he was about to ask. He hesitated, but before he could open his mouth she said, "I can't stay with her all day Stiles." 

"I don't trust anyone else to stay with her - anyone that isn't at school or my dad." He whined, pleading. 

"Stiles, I'm an ER nurse, I literally can't because my job deals only with emergencies." She sighed 

"This is an emergency!" He wailed quietly, "do you honestly think Mr. Argent won't kill her if he gets that demented little thought in his head that says it's the right thing? The first time he ever saw Scott - ever - he shot him. With a crossbow. And Deaton – well - Deatons just creepy and I don't trust him." 

"Okay, well I was thinking maybe ... Derek?" Mrs. McCall supplied, her eyes widening 

"Derek?!" He said, throwing his arms up. Derek was actually a good idea. He, at least, wouldn't kill her. But... "Derek is no good." Mrs. McCall smirked looked pointedly over his shoulder 

"Why not, I'm free." Stiles whipped around clumsily. There, looming in the shadows was Derek Hale with one eyebrow arched in a challenge. 

"Oh my GOD. How do you keep getting into my house?!" 

Derek walked slowly out of the darkness, his eyes glowing blue, his lips pulling back over his teeth in a leer, a smirk, a dare for Stiles as he towered over him to say anything to imply his incapableness. 

"I'll stay. No harm will come to her."

*** 

There were too many smells. I could feel my nostrils dilate, trying desperately to separate them out. 

And the noise, 

I could see it.

Like the paralyzed fractals in stained glass, they mixed together distorting my senses, making the scents colors and the sight a pure jagged movement of lines and shapes. My breathing became labored and I closed my eyes tightly to ease my mind. My ears rang and their voices drifted through to me like wind through the trees, muffled, choppy and dislocated. I tried desperately to make out their words through the abyss. 

It was a true disgrace to my kind to be unable to hear mere feet away, even in such a condition as mine.

When I opened my eyes again, I felt far away as if the world had turned to water and I had sank to the very bottom. Time slowed. Through the darkness I could feel the four, their tenseness, their fear, their hearts thrumming in their chests.

Breathing deeply, slowly, I swam closer to the ending of this madness. Their faces came into focus and their voices cleared. When I broke the surface, I found the face I was looking for. 

My Savior. 

His eyes flickered like a warm and welcome torch in my endless night. I felt the grave-like pit in my chest fill with a belonging and my heart ached - in the most wonderful of ways. He looked at me and the ache throbbed and turned sour. I could see the pain he was in already. What have I done? What have I done to this poor man? He did not deserve what was coming ... and I certainly did not deserve him. 

When he looked away I felt the smile slide from my face and my eyes well up with burning tears. 

It was my fault. It was all my fault. 

I watched as the Druid Healer, Lady Melissa, and a strong proud Warrior I recognized from the confrontation with Veleda dislodged their spoils from their satchels. My Savior circled the masters as they prepared for work. I attempted to be more interested in the curiousness of the practice than my thoughts on the physicality of what was to come. Their voices still were absent to me, I was still too weak to even hear like a human. 

Suddenly, there was movement. 

The Warrior man started quickly, but still leisurely towards me. Each made a move to stop him and I flinched. He smelled like a predator, a dominant, an Alpha of men. Lady Melissa held him back and I waited in terror for him to throw her or hurt her, punish her for her impudence, but he did not. 

He listened to the words spoken to him with diplomacy. I watched in amazement. Truly a pack like no other. Could it be these hills, the hills where so many battle are fought, hummed with peace? It was unlike any I had seen anywhere else. Finesse in hierarchy. 

It was clear Lady Melissa did not approve of him, as most skilled Healers disapprove of those who are skilled in War, and it was she who spoke last - in a manner most threatening. I saw a glint of sliver by his hip. A knife. They parted, and Lady Melissa nodded at me over his shoulder. It was reassuring, but did not prepare me enough. 

This man was impressive. He was not particularly large, nor strong, yet he made it clear with his body language that he knew what I was and was not afraid. I froze, and glancing behind him I saw My Savior and Lady Melissa go hurriedly down a hallway. This man who reeked of battle and triumph appraised me like an opponent. 

I shook. 

I could not help myself, my body betraying my fear of this man, but I met his penetrating gaze and did not blink. He did not speak, we did not move. Then, slowly, a corner of his mouth lifted, his face relaxed and he pulled around a cushioned chair, sitting a good 8 or so feet away. 

"Don't be afraid," he rumbled just loud enough for me to hear, "I mean you no harm." 

The Warrior looked at me, and I looked at him. His face was calm and noble. One who had seen too much and aged too fast, but still had the deep instinctual sense of humanity running like a river through his veins. A fathers face. He was clever. He was honorable. Thats what gave him this prowess. In his cleverness, I knew, that his words would always be chosen carefully. His words tumbled over and over in my head until I realized the hidden meaning. 'Don't be afraid' did not mean I should not be afraid, and 'I mean you no harm' certainly did not mean he would not do me any harm. He analyzed my face, and I could tell he knew what I was thinking. 

He continued to look at me, a small trace of empathy flickered in his face for an instant and in that instant, I knew I could trust him to do what was right. Engraved in the lines of his face were the markings of a good man, and I relaxed. 

We both settled into our seats, the picture of ease, but still I sensed his body locked and coiled in the preparation for an attack. I cleared my throat. 

"Would you like to exercise any safety precautions?" I asked timidly. 

"Like what?" He asked, his face betraying no emotion but in his voice was amusement - as if implying I was no threat. I knew better though. I was a threat to everyone. 

"I assume you are a seasoned Warrior against the unnatural, sir." I gulped, "Would it make you more comfortable if I were in restraints of some sort, sir?" 

I bowed my head submissively, to reinforce that I was offering no resistance, at his mercy and command. Through my hair, I saw his brows furrow, bewildered. He got up, I heard him grab chains from the hard table in the other room. 

Refusing my offer would be the polite thing to do, however we were not playing games of etiquette. This was War, and I was a variable. He returned, and I held up my wrists, wincing slightly as they pulled the seams of my injuries, and did not look at him. But I felt nothing. Glancing up I saw him sitting handcuffed to the chair. I blinked at him. 

"There." He smiled, "Now neither of us can move." He rattled the chains and nodded at my stitches. I was not fooled, should an emergency arise he could easily free himself without losing a moment, but the gesture was not lost on me, and I smiled kindly at him. He returned it, to a much lesser degree, but he did return it and that was something.

In those few moments we had grown a mutual respect. A respect we knew would become beneficial to us both at a later date. His eyes were familiar to me. As if I had known him in another life. They tossed in my thoughts until I knew that the eyes I recalled were not his. 

"What is you name?" I rasped softly. An icy chill going down my spine. He noted the change in my face. 

"Christopher Argent." He said, scrutinizing me, "And you? What's your name?" 

My head was reeling, how could I not have noticed? He smelled just like her. Each breath brought his scent, her scent, rolling over my tongue, ravaging my throat. Heated panic made my vision swim, but I exposed nothing. Not a hint or glimmer of my turmoil. Instead I answered him, as calm as if nothing happened. 

"Five, sir." 

"Got a last name, Five?" 

"No, sir." He looked at me speculatively. “I have not been claimed and therefore have no surname, sir.” 

"Who's your Alpha? What's his name?" 

"Renu, sir. Renu Ifearnán" 

"How many are in your pack?" 

"There are twenty two in my pride, sir. Although I'm sure there will be more coming." I corrected him without thinking. I winced glanced at him apologetically and he looked at me for a long while. At first I thought he was enraged that I would correct him, his nostrils flared and his eyes grew fierce. 

"Twenty two?" He asked incredulously, leaning in. 

He rested his elbows on his knees and scratched his chin, a far away look in his eyes. The truth he knew sank into me. How did I not see it? If it were only Derek as I had thought, he could run. But now. Too many called this their home and they were not enough. They did not have enough. Enough fighters, enough weapons, enough time. They did not have enough for that kind of attack. Before, there were 13 Hales and 16 of my pride, either side barely made it out, but this. With only 3 Hales, and maybe a couple outsiders, a hunter or two. Against the possibly 25-30 terrible beasts that were out for blood. 

I had doomed us all. 

*** 

After a hushed and heated argument, Stiles, Derek and Mrs. McCall went back into the house. Derek would stay in the Stilinski house until Stiles or the Sheriff came home and no longer ... because he was needed elsewhere. 

Derek and Stiles walked side by side, neither of them took the lead and neither fell behind. Mrs. McCall couldn't help but grin. Young love, even twisted, multi-form, supernatural young love was always cute ... in one way or another. 

Dr. Deaton was still preparing the table. Derek and Stiles hesitated, hearing Five speak on the other side of the wall. 

"Sir, I apologize. I truly and deeply regret my part in what is to take place here." She let out a shaky breath "I will give you any knowledge you wish as long as it is in my power to do so." 

"Thank you Five ... your cooperation is appreciated." Chris Argent said tiredly. "I need to know where they are. Can you tell me that?"

"I left Toronto 7 days ago.” she said quickly, desperate to give all she knew, “My sister followed me here, but the rest of them were not ready to move for another week. If there were no setbacks they will have left before the end of today - if there were, they will mobilize within the next three days. It will take them roughly 4 days on foot. They plan to come in droves, small parties, 8-10 in size, surrounding the town. They know about the tunnels, some will go there." 

"Okay. Who are our biggest threats?" 

"Renu, of course. I would say Veleda as well but she has already been captured. There's Morcant, he is strong and brave, a strategist. Eoghan, he's cunning and very fast. Aeronwy, she is a true warrior. Without mercy or fear." She paused and then added softly. "And then there's Líle." 

Stiles felt Derek stiffen beside him. 

"Who's Líle?" Argent asked quietly. 

"She's one of the Gifted. My eldest sister." 

"The Gifted?" He asked cautiously. 

"Rarely," began Dr. Deaton loudly, so he carried into the living room,"when there is a litter between two Alpha leaders, the first born will exhibit certain qualities, extra abilities if you will." He looked up something in his book, picked up two vials and emptied them into a cereal bowl. "Even more rarely," he continued, mixing the ingredients with a wooden spoon, " these two Alphas will be Gifted themselves and then more than one of the litter will show these new qualities, or inherit them." 

"Líle is very dangerous." Five murmured "Do not be fooled by her face. Her true form is pure white and over eight feet tall. She will instinctively know what your fears are and will use them against you. Do not engage her for any length of time if you can avoid it, especially alone." She paused to cleared her throat, "She is a siren, she can call herself into your head, so plug your ears if you hear her sing. You should also know... she finds everything horrid fun, it amuses her." She finished dryly. 

"Anyone else?" Argent asked after a while. Five let out a shaky laugh. 

"Me." 

No one spoke. You could hear a pin drop. They were all horrified at what she had said. It rang like truth, but no one wanted to believe it. 

"Excuse me?" Chris Argent said, doubt dripping from his words. 

"When they come I can not guarantee I will be on your side, sir." She continued, self loathing etched into every syllable. "If my Alpha calls to me, I will not be able to refuse. My bond is my blood, my blood is my bond and when he calls I will come. And Renu always calls." 

"You're not going back." Derek said gruffly, walking into the room, "Not this time." 

"Derek?" Five gasped. He knelt down beside her and pulled her into a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder and let out a single shaky sob. "It's not going to happen. We'll figure it out." He grunted, not used to displays of affection, but he held her close as if his arms alone could protect her from the world. “I promise.” 

Stiles looked on from the doorway with a clenched jaw and crossed arms. What was with her and Derek anyway? What history did they have? What kind of history did they have? Was it romantic history? Whatever it was, Stiles was feeling less and less happy about leaving the two of them alone all day. 

Ah, shit. 

He checked his watch. He had to go, like right now. 

"So!" He said loudly, effectively breaking up the hug. "I have to go to school. I'll be back in 6 hours. Please lock the door behind you. Mrs. McCall please call my dad when you leave with updates so he can text them to me. Derek, don't do anything stupid. Five," he paused. She looked at him sadly, and it gave him a weird sort of comfort that she seemed sad he was leaving. He walked over to her and clasped her hand earnestly, "be safe." He whispered. Without another glance, he went through the kitchen, grabbed his backpack and his keys and went out the front door. 

On his way to school he drummed absentmindedly on the steering wheel. His anxiety climbed every inch he sped away from her. This was a bad idea. No less tat 6 times, he almost turned around. Derek could handle it. Dr. Deaton would probably put some mojo around the house. Mrs. McCall would dose her up full of pain meds. She'd probably sleep all day. Would Derek join her on the couch? Would he calm her after her nightmares?

Stiles turned aggressively into an open parking space, slammed his car door shut and threw his backpack over his shoulder. He had 2 minutes to get to class. He jogged up the steps and waded into the teenaged world of high school. He passed by girls and boys with perfectly normal lives, unaware. He saw Scott as his locker and walked over.

“Where were you? I was starting to worry.” Scott hissed. His best friend never had to worry before if he missed first period. Whats the worst that could have happened? He slept in?

“I had to wait for someone to show up to take care of Five.” he said. “Your mom showed up with Deaton and Derek. And then Allison's dad showed up. How does that guy even know where I live?” he added confused.

“Because he's a hunter, and your best friend is a were-wolf?” he said, chuckling. Stiles nodded.

“Good point. What did I miss in English?”

“Nothing, we talked about last nights reading and then it was pretty much a free study period after that.” Scott shrugged. The bell rang and they crossed the hall to biology. Lydia's mom was teaching since Mr. Harris was used as a human sacrifice. That was something Stiles had never thought would cross his mind.   
“Thats was the bell people, you should be here before it rings.” she called over her students. “Please take your seats and turn off your cellphones.” The class gradually settled down while Ms. Martin started writing on the white board. “This week we will be talking about the human evolution. Now this is a public school, everyone, please keep in mind that I teach science and not religion. You have your book, and I have mine.” she held up the course textbook. A couple students laughed. “So, the Big Bang Theory.” she turned and wrote it on the white board, “I trust you have each seen the tv show, but thats not what I'm talking about.” another couple chuckles, “At the dawn of what we have come to know as time, a gravitational force pulled a bunch of little rocks to a somewhat larger rock and over time compacted and heated and grew into what we now know as Earth. The third planet from the sun. Who can tell me how old the earth is?”

A girl in the second row raised her hand. “4.5 billion years old.”

“Very good. Now from that point, elements started coming together and at some point-” she slammed her book down on her desk. They all jumped and laughed. “Boom. Life. Now no one quite knows when or how this happened. Anaximander was a greek philosopher who used the term 'panspermia' which means 'all seed'. He and many others theorized that life had already existed in the universe and settled on earth. Others think that live was created from organic materials. Abiogenesis, meaning that since life on earth is based on essentially carbon and water – it created framework for mutations to occur in which and from - life was created. There are other theories like the RNA-Clay World Theory, The Iron-Sulfer World Theory, and the Membrane/Lipid World Theory. I suggest you look those up and mark the differences as they may or may not be on your test.” A couple people groaned and there was a rustle of papers. 

Stiles felt himself drift away. Ms. Martin continued to speak and he jotted down words and phrases he thought sounded important. His thoughts were back on Five. He should be there to hold her hand when they stitched her back up. Maybe he could go home during lunch to see her. Just to see how she's doing.

“... the appearance of animals. Animals can be distinguished from these plants by the lack of cell walls. Though all beings started as underwater dwellers, land invertebrate slowly developed a resistance to gravity and the ability to fertilize internally. The land vertebrate or 'tetrapods' soon followed. Fast forward to Dinosaurs who...”

Stiles grew impatient. His knee bounced and he scrawled pictures in the margins of his notebook, lost in the hum of boredom. The minutes ticked by.

“... what a lot of people don't understand is that Homo Sapiens are not the first humans. Or the only ones for that matter. There are possibly 15 different species of Homos documented so far.” a couple people tittered immaturely but Stiles was jerked out of his daze by her words. 

The things that went bump in the night.

“Hey, I know that symbol.” Scott said, tiredly, glancing at Stiles' notes.

“Yeah?” said Stiles, not really paying attention, all his focus was on Ms. Martin.

“Yeah, Allison has it on a charm bracelet.” Scott yawned. Stiles looked down at his paper. Every inch of it was covered in the same symbol. It was a circle with a loopy looking triangle in the middle. “It's called a triquetra. It's like for protection or something.”   
“Protection from what?” he asked hurriedly.

“I don't know, bad things. Evil. Darkness.” Scott shrugged.

Darkness.


End file.
